The Jargogling of Ichabod Crane
by LouBlue
Summary: "Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment & things left unsaid." - Fyodor Dostoyevsky. It's a brave new world for Ichabod Crane, full of confusing turns & contradictions. The one thing he knows for sure is that he can rely on Lt Mills to be by his side through thick & thin. However, even that comfort can become confusing as Ichabod is about to find out.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N****: Hello to any kind folk who have decided to check out this fic. Much appreciated. This is just a little fic I thought I'd jot out. It's not intended to be anything monumental or life changing. I will freely confess my mythology of SH is a bit dodgy. I haven't watched the first couple of episodes yet but I do enjoy the chemistry between the leads and the comedic potential of the fish out of water story with Ichabod. I thought I'd play around with that a bit. **

**Now, as for a romance between Ichabod and Abbie… Ichabbie? I think at this present time, it's a fine line to walk. Part of Ichabod's appeal is his huge sense of right and wrong and gallantry. Having him happily cheat on his wife doesn't really fit into that picture of him, even with the fuzzy marital situation he finds himself in. So, for that reason, I'm certainly not going to start this fic out with hard core lusting between these two characters because, at this point, it would be completely OCC. However, that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun with their dynamic. ;) **

**If you're wondering about the title – to be jargogled means to be confused or all turned around – it's an old English word that has fallen into disuse, although I still rather like it. **

**Okay, enough from me. Thanks again for checking this story out. It's just meant to be a little bit of fluffy nonsense with some (hopefully) sweet Ichabbie moments that will make you smile. Please enjoy…**

**the jargogling of ichabod crane**

By Louise Blue

"She was his north star, the fixed point round which his world turned.

For as long as his heart beat, or hers, he believed they would always share a destiny."  
~David Gemmell~

_Fall of Kings_

**CHAPTER ONE**

Jenny Mills cocked her head and watched the dark SUV careen around the open field. The car fishtailed as it swung around and just missed a row of shrubbery and now it was heading towards her. Jenny was forced to step back as the driver overcorrected wildly and the car was suddenly thrown into a messy series of donuts, grass and dirt being thrown up into the air before the car finally came to a halt. Jenny shook her head. "Girl be crazy," she announced to no one in particular. The SUV wheels spun noisily on the spot, throwing up more dirt and mud but all that did was bury the wheels deeper into the ground. Jenny waited until she heard the engine finally stop before walking up to stand in front of the SUV. She folded her arms in front of herself and regarded the two occupants of the car. "I think you've got yourself bogged, Evil Knieval," she called out to the driver.

The driver opened the door and stepped out, his eyes dancing with excitement. "That was most exhilarating," said Ichabod Crane jovially. "A thoroughly enjoyable experience."

Jenny watched Abbie climb out of the passenger seat and little more gingerly, looking shell-shocked more than anything else. "I don't know if my sister would agree with you there." She couldn't help but smile. "You're looking a little pale there, Abs. You okay?"

In typical Abbie fashion she immediately strived to show no weakness. "Of course I am," she said hotly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you never even used to like to go on the Ferris Wheel at the carnivals," said Jenny smugly, "let alone the roller coaster." Her sister's love of playing it safe whenever possible had frustrated Jenny no end when they were growing up. That was why she couldn't help but take a certain amount of perverse delight to see the uptight Abbie stretching her comfort zone for this weird, British guy.

Ichabod looked intrigued. "What is this wheel of ferrets of which you speak? It sounds most interesting."

Abbie shook her head. "No, _Ferris_ wheel, not ferrets and it's not interesting, it's stupid."

"What's a ferris?" frowned Ichabod.

"You only think it's stupid because you're afraid of heights," volunteered Jenny.

"You're afraid of heights?" repeated Ichabod in surprise.

"No, I'm not," huffed Abbie.

"You so are," said Jenny, enjoying her sister's discomfort. Abbie really didn't like broadcasting any chinks in her armor.

"I need to get my car unstuck from the mud," said Abbie.

"Nice subtle change of the subject," said Abbie dryly.

Abbie ignored her. "And then I think this driving lesson may be over for the day."

"But we will resume tomorrow, yes?" asked Ichabod eagerly.

Jenny hid a smile as she watched Abbie carefully pick her next words.

"You know, Crane," said Abbie slowly, "driving isn't for everybody. Maybe it just isn't a skill set you're meant to have."

Ichabod looked taken aback. "But the use of these mechanical beasts are traditional in this age. I must master this mode of transport." He shrugged. "Of course, I would prefer a good steed between my legs—."

"Wouldn't we all," sighed Jenny, trying to remember the last date she'd had.

That comment earned her a slap and glare from Abbie. "Jenny," she hissed disapprovingly.

Ichabod looked a little confused but continued on. "Riding a horse is easy, you simply point their head, clench your thighs together and direct the beast where it needs to go."

"If it helps any, I pretty sure Abbie's thighs were tightly clenched during that lesson." Jenny's eyes sparkled with impish teasing. "You know, more than they usually are."

Another slap on the arm from Abbie. "I swear, one more word from you and I'm taking you back to the asylum," she hissed, her paleness now replaced with a decided blush.

Jenny grinned. "Hey, don't be shooting the messenger, girl. How long has it been since someone pointed their beast at you and told you which way to come, I mean go," she asked, tongue in cheek.

Abbie's glare was practically nuclear now. "You know I carry a gun, right?"

Ichabod was looking between them in confusion. "I'm sorry, ladies, but should I know the meaning of this exchange between you?"

"Definitely not," said Abbie emphatically.

"But we will continue in our lessons?" pushed Ichabod.

Abbie hesitated. "Ah, well…"

"My sister is in fear of her life with you behind the wheel," interjected Jenny. "She's worried you're going to kill her with that lead foot of yours."

Ichabod looked taken aback. "I would never do anything to endanger your life, Lieutenant," he said quickly. "I would gladly give my life to preserve yours." Ichabod's expression was one full of concern. "You do believe me on this matter, don't you, Miss Mills?"

Jenny watched Abbie move a little uncomfortably on the spot. Her usually unflappable sister looked a little fluster. "It doesn't matter," said Abbie, trying to brush the topic aside.

Ichabod took a step closer to her and laid a solicitous hand on Abbie's arm. "But of course it matters," he said intently. "I could not live with my conscience if you thought otherwise." Ichabod straightened up, his face becoming determined. "We shall have no more driving lessons," he said firmly. "It is clear they are a cause of distress to you."

"Hey now," said Abbie in annoyance, "who says I'm distressed? I'm fine and I'm not afraid." She jabbed a finger at Ichabod. "And I'm going to teach you how to drive even if it—"

"Kills you?" offered up Jenny sweetly.

"Takes until Christmas," countered Abbie, looking decidedly unimpressed with Jenny right then. "Now then, can we work on getting my car out of the mud, please? We all just need to go and find some rocks to pack behind the wheels to give them some traction."

"You need a plow horse," noted Ichabod. "They are mighty creatures more than capable of retrieving your vehicle from this predicament."

"We don't have plow horses, Crane," said Abbie shortly. "We have rocks, go and find some." With that Abbie turned on her heel and walked away from the two of them.

Jenny watched her sister stalk off, slight frame all stiff and full of indignation. "That shouldn't be as much fun as it is," she smirked, knowing she'd gotten under Abbie's skin.

Ichabod watched her leave as well. "I fear I have upset Lieutenant Mills. That was not my intent."

"You didn't upset her, Crane." Jenny turned and started to walk in the opposite direction, looking for rocks. "I did." She shoved her hands in her pockets. "And it was fun."

Ichabod fell into step beside her. "You purposely sort to discombobulate your own sister?" he asked in confusion. "Why?"

"You got a brother, Crane?"

"No."

"No brothers or sisters at all? You're an only child?"

"That is correct."

"Then I can't explain it to you. It's a power play thing."

"Why would you want to play with power between the two of you?" asked Ichabod. "You are sisters, you share the same blood. Would that not make you on equal footing?"

"Yeah well, Abbie always seemed to be more equal than me," said Jenny dourly. "I mean, I think the sister who gets the other sister institutionalized for years is kinda the one with the upper hand in the relationship, don't you think?"

"Miss Mills has already expressed her deep regret about the decisions she made when she was little more than a traumatized child." Ichabod stopped and bent down to pick up a rock about the size of an orange. "It is somewhat ungracious behavior to continue to hold her actions against her when you have accepted her apology on the matter."

"I may have forgiven, but forgetting is another thing," threw back Jenny. She grunted. "I don't know why I'm bothering. No big surprise you'd take Abbie's side on this."

"Are you saying I have a bias towards the Lieutenant?" asked Ichabod indignantly. "I can assure you, madam, I speak only the words my conscience dictates."

"Yeah, funny that your conscience always seems to want to dictate towards my sister," said Jenny in mild annoyance.

Ichabod bent down to pick up another rock. "I find that to be a baffling and nonsensical statement, Miss Mills."

Jenny watched him straighten up and her eyes narrowed. "Can I ask you a question, Crane?"

Ichabod inclined his head slightly. "But of course."

"How do you see all of this working out?" Jenny waved a hand around. "I mean, the Horseman, Katrina trapped in another realm, you being out of your time, the whole fate of the world on your shoulders kinda thing. What's your end game? Do you see yourself somehow managing to free Katrina and then ride off into the sunset together, you and your powerful steed?"

Ichabod blinked. "I must confess I do not know what the future holds for me." He pressed his lips together and looked away. "And perhaps that is for the best. These are more than uncertain times. Too much knowledge of the future could defeat us all."

"But best case scenario, you'd want to be reunited with Katrina, right?" she pushed him.

"She's my wife," said Ichabod softly. "Of course I long to be with her again."

"And where does that leave Abbie, if you and Katrina get your happily ever after?"

Ichabod frowned. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand what you are trying to ask of me, Miss Mills. I wish nothing but good things for your sister. She has been a kind and faithful friend to me in what has been my darkest hour of need."

"And that's it?"

"Is that not enough?" asked Ichabod in surprise.

"Abbie doesn't make friends easily and she doesn't let people in very often." Jenny tilted her head. "But she let you in. She's got a soft spot for you." She pursed her lips. "I just can't work out if that spot is in her heart or her head when it comes to you."

Ichabod made a pained expression. "Again, I find myself at a loss to fathom your meaning, Miss Mills."

"I just don't want you dicking my sister around." Jenny bent down and picked up a couple of smaller rocks. "She has a habit of forming attachments with wildly inappropriate men and it always ends badly."

"I can assure you that I would never dream of sullying Lieutenant Mills' reputation or anything else with any kind of dicking, as you called it," said Ichabod sharply. "Ours is a professional relationship only."

Jenny snorted inelegantly. "No, it's not."

"Alright," said Ichabod, floundering slightly, "perhaps professional doesn't entirely encapsulate the totality of our association. I suppose that scope could be broadened to include… ah…well—"

"Weird?" offered up Jenny. "What you two have is weird."

"Unique," countered Ichabod. "I believe that aptly describes our situation. Unique."

"You got that right." They were walking back to the car now. "If you spell unique as w-e-i-r-d. Just don't mess with her head, okay?"

"A moment ago you were more than happy to upset your sister," pointed out Ichabod. "Now you rally to her defense. Completely needlessly, I might add."

"Yeah, because she's my sister, I get to screw with her, no one else," said Abbie. "That's the way that works."

Ichabod shook his head as they walked around to the back of the SUV where Abbie was already busy stacking rocks against the back tires to provide some traction. "It's hard to perceive any relationship working with those kind of complicated contradictions."

"What are you two talking about?" asked Abbie sharply.

"Frankly, Lieutenant, I'm not entirely sure," said Ichabod.

Abbie glared at Jenny. "What have you been saying? Was it about me?" She transferred her glare to Ichabod. "Don't talk to my sister."

"But that would be impolite."

"Same old Abbie," said Jenny laconically. "You never did like to share your toys. It's Lilly Bell all over again."

Abbie rolled her eyes. "Seriously, are we still talking about this? That doll was given to me."

"And it would have killed you to let your little sister play with it once and awhile?" shot back Jenny.

"You always got your toys dirty," said Abbie defensively. "I didn't want Lilly Bell getting dirty."

"It's a toy, you're meant to get them dirty," said Jenny in frustration. "I swear, you're such a control freak."

"One of us had to take charge of things," said Abbie fiercely. "Otherwise anything could have happened to us."

"Anything _did_ happen to us," said Jenny pointedly. "You being all super freak controlling about everything didn't change anything."

Ichabod stepped in between the warring sisters. "Ladies, please, this discussion is going nowhere. I suggest we focus on the problem at hand." He inclined his head at the car. "Freeing this mode of transport from its mud-filled fate."

Jenny shook her head, suddenly fed up with the whole thing. "I'm sure you two have got this covered. You're the Chosen Ones, after all."

"You're going to hold that against me now?" asked Abbie in frustration.

"Neither the Lieutenant nor I chose to be caught up in these going ons," Ichabod defended Abbie. "It is unfair to present it as some kind of conspiracy on our behalf."

Jenny shrugged. "And yet here we are." She stared at the two of them, taking in the united front her sister and Ichabod presented. Jenny felt a sudden jab of pain at seeing her sister slide so effortlessly into a partnership with someone other than herself. They were sisters and they shared a history but yet she couldn't help but feel that Abbie felt closer to this man who was practically a stranger than to Jenny herself. And that hurt. She turned around and started to walk off. "Let me know how it all turns out."

"You can't walk home," called out Abbie behind her. "It's too far."

"Watch me," answered Jenny, not turning around.

#

It was getting dark by the time Abbie pulled up to drop Ichabod off for the night. She cut off the engine and turned to face him. "What were you and my sister really talking about in that field today?"

Ichabod hesitated, still unclear on the matter himself. "She was just expressing concern for you."

"Really?" asked a skeptical Abbie.

"Mm," said Ichabod noncommittally. The truth was, he was still trying to fathom what exactly had been the younger Mill's sister point when it came to her comments about himself and the Lieutenant. The young woman seemed to be alluding to some kind of burgeoning romantic connection between them which was utterly ridiculous. Nothing could be further from the truth.

"You've got mud on you."

Ichabod's ruminations were interrupted by the soft touch of Abbie's fingers on his ear. He started violently, taken aback by the unexpected caress.

"Ow!" exclaimed Abbie, as her finger was bent back at an unnatural angle by his abrupt action. She shook her injured hand and sent him a mystified look. "What was that? I was just trying to get some mud off your ear."

"I'm sorry," said Ichabod hastily. "You merely startled me, that's all." They weren't overly demonstrative towards one another. Why did the Lieutenant feel the need to suddenly touch him?

"I know how you feel," said Abbie in mild irritation. She wiggled her finger. "What are you worried about anyways? Cooties?"

"I have no idea what that is," said Ichabod unevenly. "And I'm not worried about anything."

"Then why are you looking at me like that?" asked Abbie in confusion.

"I don't know what you mean." Was it just him, or did the confines of their vehicle suddenly seem smaller?

Abbie shook her head. "You're being weird. Stop it."

"I am being no such thing," said Ichabod indignantly.

Abbie sighed. "Alright, whatever. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You will." Ichabod smiled at her. He was being ridiculous. There was nothing to Miss Jenny's confused ramblings, he was sure of it. "Good evening, Lieutenant. Thank you for my driving lesson."

"No problem, even though all I could think about the whole time was you kissing me."

Ichabod's eyes went wide. "Pardon me?"

"I said even though all I could think about was you killing me," repeated Abbie. She half-smiled. "It was a joke." She wrinkled her nose. "You know, ha ha, a joke."

"Oh yes," said Ichabod shakily. "Of course, very amusing." He opened the car door and climbed out. Abbie lifted her hand in a brief wave and then Ichabod stepped back as she turned the car engine on again and drove off. Ichabod watched the car disappear down the road. He rubbed absently at his ear, feeling some caked mud there as the Lieutenant had said. Today had turned into an exceedingly odd day. But then, those were the only kind of days he seemed to have now. Ichabod pushed down the confusing conversations of that day and headed in to get some rest. Tomorrow was another day and would no doubt be filled with new challenges. For the first time, Ichabod actually welcomed the thought of such a distraction.

**A/N****: Now, as I said, my grasp of this rather involved mythology is a little bit unreliable, so please feel free to correct me if I've said something that is incorrect. Also, where exactly does Ichabod live? Realised I didn't know when I had Abbie drop him off. LOL Anyways, let me know if you're interested in seeing more of this story as Ichabod tries to work out the workings of the female mind. Here's a hint… it doesn't go well for him. ;) **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N****: Hey guys, first of all, I just want to say a huge THANK YOU to all of you lovely folks who reviewed, faved and followed this story. I hope I can justify your faith in this story. I've actually had a few new ideas for this fic, so I'm looking forward to playing them out for you. And thank you to marshmallow deviant for letting me know where Ichabod lives – this chapter is for you. ;) I'm saving up going back and watching the first couple of episodes, so I can spoil myself on a weekend I'm not working. **

**Okay, enough from me, let's get on with the show and see where all of this might be going. I'm dropping a couple of cookies in this chapter to give you a hint of some upcoming drama. See what you can find…**

**Oh, and I hope everyone is reading the word 'lieutenant' as 'leftenant' in their heads with this story, which is the proper British way of saying that word. I'm Australian, so we swap between the two pronunciations pretty routinely over here, so it's not a stretch for me. :)**

**CHAPTER TWO**

Abbie turned off the ignition of her car but didn't immediately get out. She leaned across to the glove box and pulled out a carefully folded up piece of paper. Unfolding the paper, she looked at the engraved writing declaring a charity gala for tomorrow night but it was the handwritten note at the bottom which really held her attention.

'_Would love to catch up. Think about it?'_

And Abbie had been thinking about it, practically non-stop ever since she'd seen Edward's handwriting. Which was stupid because she had a lot going on in her life these days and an old, messy relationship shouldn't be one of them. She blew out a noisy huff, annoyed at herself for being so distracted when there were so many more pressing concerns to be getting on with. Abbie blamed her current feeling of exhaustion for making her vacillate over something she should be over and done with. She seemed to always be waking up more tired than when she went to bed lately. It was starting to wear her down. Abbie shoved the invitation back into the glove box and climbed out the car. She thrust her hands in her coat pocket and walked up to Ichabod's cabin. The sound of wood being chopped could be heard as she drew closer so Abbie didn't bother going inside, but rather, walked around to the back of the cabin. There was Ichabod, expertly splitting wood with an axe. "You know the house has electricity, right?"

Ichabod stopped in his endeavors and turned around to look at her.

"You don't need to chop wood, you can just flick a switch if you want heat or light."

"I find the chopping of wood to be rather cathartic in nature," answered Ichabod as he wiped his sweaty brow with the inside sleeve of his shirt.

Abbie arched an eyebrow. "Really?" She shrugged. "I guess. I mean, I like to run."

Ichabod frowned. "Run?"

"Yes, go jogging, run."

"Where are you running to?" asked Ichabod in confusion.

"Nowhere, I'm usually on a tread mill." She could see he didn't understand. "It's like this motorized track that you run on and you don't go anywhere."

Ichabod blinked. "What is the point of running if it doesn't take you anywhere?"

"It's good cardio." She tapped her chest. "You know, good for your heart."

He tilted his head at her, the way he always did when he was trying to understand something she was saying. "Why not simply run in nature?"

"Because the treadmill is more convenient."

"In what way is a mechanized devise I assume you have to purchase, assemble and provide some kind of power source to, more convenient than simply opening ones' door and stepping out into the world?" asked a bewildered Ichabod.

Abbie wrinkled her nose. "It's too early for one of these conversations, Crane. I just can't, at least not without a cup of coffee in me."

"Then fortune smiles sweetly upon you, Lieutenant," said Ichabod as he swung his axe down into the stump he'd been splitting blocks of wood on, leaving it embedded there. He smiled down at her. "I have just such a beverage warming on my stove."

"Thank heavens," Abbie groaned. "I've run out and haven't made it to the store to buy more." She walked over and picked up an armful of the split wood, just as Ichabod was doing, to help him carry it all back into the cabin. Abbie followed Ichabod into the cabin and watched him neatly stack his armful of wood before turning around to take hers.

He frowned as he took the wood from her arms, searching her face. "You look tired."

Abbie scowled. "Boy, thanks," she said sardonically, "take me now, big boy."

Ichabod hesitated, looking uncertain.

"You don't tell a woman she looks tired," said Abbie irritably. "That's not what we want to hear."

"But you do look tired," protested Ichabod. His voice lowered in concern. "Are you not sleeping well?" His frowned deepened. "Are you having nightmares?"

These days nightmares and visions were par for the course, so Abbie understood why Ichabod was asking her that. "No, no nightmares, no dreams, nothing. I'm just a bit tired." She shrugged. "I think I need a new bed, is all. I've had this one for nearly ten years. It might be a time for an upgrade."

"As long as you are sure there is nothing wrong," said Ichabod earnestly.

"Well, I was lured into this cabin with promises of coffee," said Abbie, straight-faced. She waggled her empty hands in front of him. "And yet, look at this, no coffee."

"Your wish is my command."

"Dang," said Abbie, pulling out a chair and sitting down, "in that case I should have asked for a pony." She paused. "A pony pulling a whole cartload of coffee."

Ichabod poured out some of the dark brew into a mug and handed it to Abbie. "Perhaps if we just start with one cup and see where that takes us, eh?"

Abbie looked down at the coffee between her hands and breathed deeply, her sleep deprived body screaming out for the rush that she knew the first mouthful would bring. "I love you and want to have your babies," she said with the utmost sincerity to her coffee, knowing this caffeinated beverage was most likely going to be only way she was going to make it through today. There was a clatter of crockery behind her and Abbie twisted in her seat to see a suddenly nervous looking Ichabod. "You alright?"

"Did you say something, Lieutenant?" he asked unevenly.

"I was just talking to my coffee." Abbie saw the way Ichabod was now looking at her for that admission. She hugged her mug closer to her chest. "What, that's a thing. People talk to inanimate objects all the time."

"Perhaps, but I'm uncertain how many of their number would offer to bear their offspring." Ichabod frowned. "Which doesn't even make any kind of sense."

"That's why you shouldn't listen to private conversations," said Abbie defensively.

Ichabod walked around to sit down across from her. "And by that, you mean private conversations between you and ground coffee beans reconstituted with hot water?"

Abbie pouted at him. "Don't you be getting all up in my coffee addiction, Crane. A girl has to be allowed the occasional vice or two."

"Are you saying you have more than one vice, Lieutenant?" He smiled at her over the top of his own cup of coffee. "How very intriguing. I wonder what the others could be?"

Abbie smiled sweetly. "I've been known to kick smug British guys under the table for thinking they're funny when they're not."

Ichabod gave a little laugh. "I wouldn't call that vice, so much as poor impulse control – ow!" He reached under the table and rubbed his wounded knee, the one Abbie had just kicked for his teasing of her.

"Oh yeah," said Abbie innocently, "I guess you're right. Definitely poor impulse control. But what's a girl gonna do, right?"

"She could wear less unyielding shoes, for one thing," Ichabod, feigning irritation.

Abbie just smirked. "Toughen up, princess."

"Excuse me?" gasped Ichabod.

"You heard me," said Abbie impishly, taking another large mouthful of her coffee and feeling the caffeine start to buzz through her system. She sighed happily. "I needed that."

"The beverage or the physical assault?" asked Ichabod wryly.

"It's a tossup." Abbie took another mouthful of coffee and let it warm her from the inside out as her gaze wandered around the cabin. "You have a message."

Ichabod looked at her blankly. "Do I?"

"On your answering machine."

"My what?"

Abbie pointed to the black box with the blinking red light on a side table by the door, next to the phone she knew Ichabod never used. "Someone has rung this cabin and left a phone message." She stood up and walked over to it and pressed the flashing light.

"_Corbin, it's me. I finally got a lead on that guy you were trying to track down. The word is he always goes to this club on the outskirts of town on a Thursday night, the Bump N Grind. He's going by the name of Max Duncan these days. He should know where you can get that book you're so eager to get your hands on. And by the way, you owe me – buy me a beer the next time you see me." _

The phone clicked as the man hung up.

Ichabod was by her side now, expression intent. "Do you know of this Max Duncan that Captain Corbin was so interested in?"

"No," said Abbie quietly.

Ichabod looked at her. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "It's just, I don't know, hearing someone talk about August as though he's still here." Abbie looked away. "It just makes it harder to believe that he's not."

"I am very sorry for the loss of your friend, Lieutenant," said Ichabod softly. "He did not deserve to die."

Abbie's lips tightened. "A lot of people haven't deserved to die since all this started but there is nothing we can do about that." She pinned Ichabod with a determined look. "What we can do is try and stop any more people from falling victim to all of this crazy. If Corbin was looking for this Duncan guy in regards to some book, you can bet it wasn't about an overdue library book. I think it's worthwhile tracking this guy down and seeing what he knows."

"I agree," said Ichabod quickly. "Corbin seemed to be expecting a lot of the things we find happening around us. To follow a lead he has laid down for us, even from the afterlife, seems like a very prudent step." He pursed his lips. "This Bump N Grind establishment, do you know of it?"

"Oh yeah," said Abbie dryly, "I know it."

"Is it some kind of coffee house? Where they grind their own beans perhaps?"

"It's more that they grind other people's beans." Abbie's lips twitched as she held back a smile.

Ichabod pulled a face. "You're looking amused. I'm not going to like this, am I?"

Abbie laughed. "Let's just say it might be an education."

"One I'm most likely going to regret, I suspect."

#

Ichabod moved a little restlessly in the car, his legs needing to be stretched. They'd been sitting outside this establishment since seven o'clock that evening and it was now close to midnight. He glanced again at the picture on the dashboard of Max Duncan and his many aliases. The Lieutenant had been easily able to find the man in what she called 'the system'. The interweb still unnerved Ichabod somewhat and he remained loathe to truly make an attempt to understand it, instead deferring to let Miss Mills' expertise in this area. Once finding a picture of the man they were looking for, he and the Lieutenant had opted for a low key approach to singling him out. As neither one of them had the slightest idea as to where this might lead, it was decided that advertising their presence and interest in the man might not be to their advantage. Instead, they'd sat outside this obvious den of iniquity as men had walked in and out all night. "You know, this plot of land used to be owned by John Mills," he announced suddenly.

Abbie was slouched down in her chair, head propped up with one hand, eyes half-open but never leaving the entrance of the Bump N Grind. "You don't say?" she asked with evident disinterest.

"Yes, he had quite a severe stutter, it made him very self-conscious to speak."

"I guess it would," said Abbie absently.

"He was a furrier by trade," continued on Ichabod, hoping that some light conversation might pass the dragging time away. "He used to trap beavers and make most excellent coats and blankets out of their pelts."

"So, as business go, things haven't changed too much then," observed Abbie wryly. "It's still all about beavers."

Ichabod turned his head and looked at her blankly. "Are you saying that this establishment, along with offering gratuitous titillation to men of a certain ilk, also supplies beaver-related wares?" He scratched his cheek. "Most interesting. You know, there is nothing warmer than a blanket made of stitched beaver pelts. I might be interested in acquiring such an article, if possible." Ichabod suddenly noticed the way the Lieutenant was staring at him. "Have I misspoken? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Abbie opened her mouth and then closed it again, as though deciding against her original reply. She looked him over. "I don't have the strength right now, Crane. Let's save that conversation for when I've lost the will to live."

Ichabod was confused but as that was how he seemed to find himself after at least half of the conversations he had with people in this new world, he was starting to get used to it. "He had a wife you know."

Abbie blinked. "Who?"

"John Mills, he had a wife, Elizabeth. She was a very skilled in the art of apothecary."

"You mean she was like a pharmacist?"

"I don't know the meaning of that word but she would make potions and tinctures to cure the local townsfolk of their ailments."

"Pharmacist," concluded Abbie.

"Elizabeth Mills would use the castoreum she milked from the castor glands of the beavers her husband trapped and use it to help with such maladies as headaches, fever and hysteria. They were a most efficient partnership."

"What are castor glands?"

"They are located near the anal glands of the beaver," said Ichabod conversationally. "They use them to mark their territory, along with their urine, of course."

Abbie's mouth dropped open. "She used to give beaver butt juice to people?"

"It was highly effective from all accounts."

Abbie wrinkled her nose. "Do me a favour, Crane, it I'm ever hysterical, just leave me be. I don't want to be cured."

"Duly noted, Lieutenant." He looked back at the gaudily lit club, noting the patrons were starting to thin out. "Perhaps we have missed our man? Perhaps he has decided against requiring either bumping or grinding tonight?"

Abbie grunted. "Maybe, but seeing as we have to wait another whole week to try and track him down again, I say we give it another half hour or so."

"Very well."

"You know, I thought you'd be more appalled by a house of sin like this," observed Abbie casually.

"Licentiousness is hardly an invention of this century, Lieutenant," said Ichabod wryly. "It gives me no pride to say this, but certain people of my time could more than hold their own in the area of debauchery."

Abbie looked suddenly curious. "Did you ever go to one of these places, back in the day?"

"When I was in the military, it wasn't uncommon for men to frequent such places. Indeed, it was expected."

"Huh," mused Abbie, "you're a dark horse."

"I did not find such places to be a source of titillation, Lieutenant." Memories swirled through his mind as he remembered those smoke-filled rooms with drunken men spilling drinks and enjoying the company of women. Anything to take your mind off the horrors which would be waiting for them when a new dawn broke and they were called to arms once again. "They were sad places full of lost souls."

"They still are but don't ask me to feel sorry for any of those guys. At least they have a choice. Most of those women don't."

"It is indeed a great sadness that a woman's body is always something certain men would wish to reduce to a commodity to be bought and sold rather than to protect it as the treasure it truly is," said Ichabod seriously.

Abbie was looking at him again, head propped up by her hand with her elbow wedged against the window. "That's a really sweet thing to say, Crane." She sighed. "I guess it's true what they say – they don't make 'em like they used to."

"Who says that?"

Abbie waved a vague hand at him. "You know, they, them."

Ichabod didn't know but he let the matter go. He turned back in his seat and went back to watching the club. The minutes ticked by in a comfortable silence for a little while until Ichabod watched a man stagger out of the club and promptly throw up onto the sidewalk before collapsing face down into his own splattered vomit. "I wonder if Frederick Philipse could have envisaged such goings on in the town he founded?" mused Ichabod. "Most likely if he knew of the state of many things in Sleepy Hollow he would be spinning in his grave." He watched the man struggle to stand up and promptly start vomiting again. "Still, I don't suppose any of us can know what is to become of our legacy. Once we pass from this world, our legacy, whatever it might be, is bequeathed to those who remain behind and we have no control over such things." Ichabod pulled a face. "Unless you're me, of course and happen to wake up two hundred and fifty years later. Then I suppose you get another bite of the apple… even if there is the occasional worm in it. And by worm, I mean supernatural beings intent on destroying me and indeed the entire world. What do you think, Lieutenant?" When Abbie didn't answer, Ichabod turned his head to see she was fast asleep. He glanced at the clock and saw it was now half past midnight and he didn't blame her for being overcome. But sleeping slouched over in this mechanical beast was not a proper way to find any real rest. Ichabod lent over, his face near hers. "Lieutenant," he said softly, not wanting to wake her too violently. "Wake up. I think that our endeavors tonight are not destined to yield us any fruit." Abbie didn't respond, her breathing slow and shallow. Ichabod leaned in a little closer. "Lieutenant."

Abbie's head lolled towards his, her eyes opening ever so slightly. "Ichabod," she breathed and then she was closing the small distance between them, her lips suddenly on his.

Ichabod froze at the first touch of her lips on his, stunned by this turn of events. Abbie's lips moved back and forth on his in a languorous caress. Ichabod gasped when he felt the hot warmth of her tongue against his lips and that was all Abbie needed to be granted access. The taste of her exploded in Ichabod's mouth, making his head spin and heart pound painfully in his chest. The sensations were so extraordinary that he pulled back, overcome and shaken. Abbie's eyes slid shut again and she continued to just lie back against her seat, not moving. Ichabod stared at her in distress for a long moment, trying to work out what had just happened. The quiet of the night was consumed in the roaring in his ears as he ran a shaking hand through his hair. When Abbie continued to just lie there peacefully, Ichabod couldn't take it anymore. He scrambled out of the car, welcoming the bracing coldness of the late night air as he leaned heavily against the car door. "Oh," he finally managed to push out through lips which were still tingling from that kiss.

And he thought Headless Horsemen were the only thing he had to worry about… 

**A/N: Okay, I know I said I wasn't going to jump into any kind of romance in my opening remarks of this story and I meant it… so just bear with me, okay? I have a cunning plan to have all of this not come out as OOC, trust me – I'm a doctor. Well, I'm not a doctor, I'm a medical scientist, but you should still trust me. LOL **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N****: Okay, so with this chapter, I'm creating a bit more of a back story for Abbie – fan fic writer's prerogative. LOL Thank you again for the reviews – they really help me know what it is you're looking for in a story so I can cater to my audience. That's the benefit of this kind of format for story telling – the instant feedback. It doesn't mean I'll completely change the vision I have for this story but I can add in little story beats if people mention they'd like to see something. **

**And enough from me, hope you have fun with this chapter, I did. :D**

**CHAPTER THREE**

Abbie dragged herself out of bed and staggered towards the kitchen. She groaned, remembering she still hadn't found time to buy that coffee. It looked like she was going to have to resort to tea to get her out the door until she could collapse in front of a Starbucks. "Damn, I'm getting old," she muttered to herself. Late night stakes out didn't used to be a problem for her but despite having gotten at least six hours sleep last night, Abbie felt like she hadn't been to bed at all. She opened her pantry door and blinked in surprise at the sight which met her tired gaze. Reaching into the pantry, she withdrew a fresh, unopened bottle of coffee. "There is a God," she said, full of gratitude. Jenny must have gone out and restocked the larder. While it was still awkward having her sister floating in and out of her life these days, there were decided benefits at time. Abbie set the coffee machine to start brewing while she took a quick shower, hoping the cold water would make her feel a little better. A shower and two cups of coffee later, Abbie was starting to feel somewhere close to being human again. She was applying a thick layer of jam to her toast when Jenny walked into the kitchen.

She eyed Abbie's choice of breakfast. "Your own body weight in strawberry jam and coffee," Jenny noted in amusement. "Big night? Did you and your significant other paint the town red?"

"You're hysterical," said Abbie flatly as she watched Jenny pour herself a cup of the freshly brewed coffee.

Jenny half-smiled. "I was thinking of taking my show on the road but my material is for a pretty select audience." She sat down across from Abbie and looked her over. "Wow, you really do look bad. What time did you get in, anyways?"

"Just after one." Abbie stifled a yawn. She saw the way Jenny was looking at her expectantly. "It was a bust. Duncan didn't show." Abbie tilted her head. "You sure August never said anything to you about him?"

Jenny shook her head. "No, I'd have remembered."

Abbie sighed heavily. "It might all be a dead end, even if we do find him. I just wish there was one day where I didn't feel like we were chasing our own tails with this stuff."

"Oh well, at least you got to spend some quality time alone with hubby," deadpanned Jenny.

Abbie rolled her eyes at Jenny. "Whatever." She was used to her sister's needling, looking for a reaction. Not today though, Abbie was just too tired. "I think all of this stuff is starting to get to Crane too."

Jenny sipped her coffee. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know." Abbie shrugged, thinking back to last night. One minute he'd been regaling her with unwanted information about beaver butts and the next he'd just gone completely quiet. On the drive to dropping him off at the cabin, he'd barely even managed a goodbye. "What do I know about guys and what bothers them? Especially ones approaching their third century."

"It's true, you're not smart when it comes to men," agreed Jenny readily.

Abbie sent her a disgruntled look. "I'm not that bad," she protested, going back on her own words.

"Oh yeah," said Jenny sweetly. "I mean, it's not like you'd even consider hooking up with an old boyfriend who broke your heart when you found out he was cheating on you with his wife."

Abbie's lips thinned. "I didn't know Edward was married otherwise I'd never have let anything happen between us."

"Yeah, but your colleague professor." Jenny snorted. "Could you have been any more cliché?"

"I was young," said Abbie defensively, even now feeling a huge amount of guilt and shame that she'd been taken in so completely by the man.

"And he wasn't," said Jenny knowingly. "Girl, you got yourself some serious Daddy issues."

"It wasn't like that," said Abbie tightly. "You don't know what went on between us. What we had was real."

"As real as what his wife and he had?" threw back Jenny.

"You know that as soon as I found out, I broke it off," said Abbie unhappily. "I'm not an adulterer." She grimaced. "Not knowingly, anyways. It just felt so real and it was amazing. Edward was amazing, right up until the day I found out." It still mortified Abbie that she'd been so blind to see what should have been obvious to her. But the truth was, she'd been so giddily in love that she hadn't wanted to see anything beyond her own happiness and she'd ended up paying the price. Never again she'd promised herself. Never again.

"The guy was a bastard who broke your heart," said Jenny, dismissive of the other man. "He should have been fired and would have been if you'd come forward."

"I just wanted it to be over," said Abbie quietly, looking down at the cup of coffee between her hands. "I didn't want to deal with it at the time."

"And is that why you're going to this gala thing tonight?" Jenny quizzed her. "A drive by revenge thing?"

Abbie frowned. "What? No, of course not."

"Oh come on, I saw that dress," said Jenny knowingly. "You want to go to that ball thing and blow Edward's mind and then walk away, showing what he missed out on. Just admit it."

"That would be childish and pointless," said Abbie stiffly.

"Yeah, but if you fess up, I'll like you a whole lot more," said Jenny in amusement. "Come on, Abs, I saw the dress. That's a 'screw you, buddy' dress if ever I saw one."

"Stop going through my things," said Abbie in annoyance.

"Nice deflection," said Jenny wryly. She gave a little sigh. "Okay, whatever. I guess I just want to make sure you know why you're doing this. Edward really did a number on you and you've never really dealt with that. I'd hate to see him screwing with you all over again."

"He won't," said Abbie determinedly.

"That guy is your kryptonite," countered Jenny. "It took you a long time to get over him and I think you're not sure you have. This thing tonight is playing with fire if you want my opinion."

"I don't," said Abbie shortly.

"Tough," said an unapologetic Jenny, "you've got it anyway."

Abbie stood up. "I've got to go to work."

"Convenient."

"It's just a fact." Abbie rinsed her coffee mug out and grabbed her car keys. "Just stay out of my stuff, okay?"

"Not the point of the conversation," said Jenny dryly as she took another sip of her coffee, "but seeing as you always have to have the last word, sure, Abbie, no problem."

"I don't need to always have the last word," bit out Abbie.

"She said, having the last word," said Jenny mockingly.

Abbie opened her mouth to protest but then realized she was just going to end up proving Jenny right if she continued. Instead she pointedly closed her mouth, shot her sister a challenging look and headed out to work.

#

Ichabod looked around himself. "Why are we here?"

Abbie pushed on the doors of the bedding store. "I told you, I need a new bed. It's our lunch hour, so I thought we could check out some beds." The day had been dragging by with Ichabod being strangely quiet for most of it but she didn't have the strength to deal with that right now. Abbie couldn't take anymore mornings waking up this tired. Maybe a new really would help.

Ichabod's eyes widened a little. "You want me to help you choose a bed?"

Abbie shrugged. "Help, don't get in the way, it's your choice." She walked into the store and a moment later, Ichabod followed her. Abbie looked him up and down as he scanned the bed-filled space apprehensively. "What's up with you today? You're acting as nervous as long tailed cat in a room full of rockers."

"No, I'm not," said Ichabod quickly and then just kept looking at her intently.

"And stop doing that," said Abbie grumpily. "You've been staring at me all day and it's freaking me out." A thought suddenly occurred. "I don't have something on my face, do I?" She put a hand to her face, suddenly worried she'd been walking around all morning with jam smeared all over her or something.

"There is nothing wrong with your face, Lieutenant, it is perfectly fine," Ichabod told her. He suddenly looked guilty. "Not that I'm saying your face is perfect. Indeed, I have given no thought to the subject of your face and therefore have garnered no opinion on the subject and have no intention of doing so, ever."

Abbie's eyes narrowed as Ichabod's ramblings trailed off. "Sometimes it's okay to just answer yes or no to a question. You know that, right?"

Ichabod had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

"Looking for a new bed?"

Abbie turned around to see an eager looking sales assistant standing by her side, his name tag announcing him as team leader Robert. "That's the plan."

"I will wait here," said Ichabod and sat down on the closest thing to him, which, unsurprisingly, just happened to be a bed. The bed rolled under his weight and Ichabod jumped up again, watching in disbelief as the top of the mattress rippled. "What manner of bed strangeness is this? This bedding is alive!"

"Oh, that's the Deluxe Slumberland," said the sales assistant proudly. "Just in. It's a top of the range waterbed."

"Waterbed?" repeated Ichabod in consternation. He looked at Robert. "You mean this bed is made of water?"

"Amongst other things," said Robert cheerily. He held up a hand. "I know what you're thinking and let me tell you, waterbed technology has come a long way since those early models." He looked them over. "You're worried about the height and weight disparity between you two, aren't you?" Robert didn't give either of them a chance to reply. "I promise you, the technology in these beds accounts for all sorts of strange bedfellows." He winked at them. "If you know what I mean?"

"I can assure you, sir—" started off Ichabod hotly but was interrupted by Robert who was in full blown sales pitch now.

"But there is no point me telling you all this, the only way to truly appreciate the Deluxe Slumberland is to try it yourself."

Abbie gave the bed a considered look. "I don't know. I wasn't really thinking about a waterbed."

Robert started to usher the two of them onto the bed. "You can't make an informed decision without having tested it out, now can you?"

Abbie sat down on the bed, willing to at least give it a try. Ichabod, however, seemed less inclined to try new things. Robert had to practically manhandle him onto the bed.

"Now, lie back you two, you can't appreciate the many wonderful attributes of this bed by just sitting on it."

"I don't wish to appreciate its attributes, many though they might be," complained Ichabod as Abbie put her feet up on the bed and laid her head on the pillow provided.

"Now then, you can't be opposed to at least trying something new," wheedled Robert as he pushed Ichabod back on the bed to lie beside Abbie. "Who knows, you could well end up falling in love with it."

"I'm a married man," said Ichabod in outrage. "That will never happen."

Robert looked a little taken aback by the other man's vehemence on the subject of beds and Abbie couldn't blame him.

"Reign in the crazy, Crane," she instructed him. "Remember, help or don't get in the way. Your choice."

"You folks just relax and try out the bed, move around a bit and see if it's a good fit. I tell you, this bed will change your life." Robert's attention was caught by someone signaling to him from across the room. "I'll be right back. You two just take your time to enjoy the magic."

Robert scurried off and Abbie settled herself more into the bed, wiggling her shoulders. "It's not bad," she mused thoughtfully. "It's not as bouncy as I thought it would be." Abbie turned her head to look at Ichabod, who was lying stiffly beside her, hands clasped in front of him and looking up at the ceiling. "What do you think?"

"Why would you seek my opinion on your bedding?" asked Ichabod tightly, still staring up at the ceiling like his life depended on it. "It is a matter of no concern to me."

"Okay," said Abbie, a little surprised by that, "you suck as a shopping partner, just so you know."

"I have no expertise in the matter of mattresses," said Ichabod stiffly.

Abbie made an exasperated noise. "I'm just asking if you feel comfortable or not."

"Uncomfortable," said Ichabod without hesitation. "I feel decidedly uncomfortable."

She wiggled around some more, trying to make up her own mind. "It is a bit of a strange feeling," she agreed. "But I don't mind it." Abbie checked the price tag and her eyebrows shot up. "Mind you, for this price, I'd want it to be able to make me breakfast in the morning and to my income taxes for the next fifty years."

"The bed I shared with Katrina, my wife, was made of straw and feathers and we found that to be completely acceptable," observed Ichabod.

Abbie rolled on her side, propping herself up with an elbow as she looked down at Ichabod. "You know, that's like the three hundredth time you've said that today – Katrina, my wife. It's like you're trying to establish an alibi or some kind of plot point in a bad play. I know Katrina is your wife, Crane. I've met her, we've talked. You don't have to keep reminding me that you have a wife named Katrina."

"That isn't what I was doing," protested Ichabod, but he refused to meet her gaze.

"I know what's bothering you," said Abbie. "You're worried about Katrina and losing that connection between the two of you."

"Katrina and I will always be connected, she is my wife," said Ichabod swiftly.

"Yeah, you mentioned," said Abbie wryly but then she placed a sympathetic hand on Ichabod's arm. "I know you miss her, Crane and are worried about how all this will end. I understand that but you have to remember, you never know what tomorrow will bring. Love might be closer than you think." It was true. Even though Ichabod and Katrina were separated now, it didn't mean it had to always be that way. Abbie had learnt that this life was so full of twists and turns she was beginning to believe anything was possible, particularly when it came to Ichabod Crane. The rules didn't seem to apply to him. Ichabod was staring at her wide-eyed and Abbie couldn't tell if she'd made him feel better or worse. She decided to change the subject instead. "You know, I was thinking about last night."

"You were?" he croaked and looked oddly panicked again.

"I think we should try again. What do you think?"

Ichabod scrambled off the bed and looked down at her horrified. "I think that is a horrible and totally unacceptable idea. We can never do anything like last night again, _ever_. It wouldn't be right."

Abbie was left rocking on the bed at Ichabod's abrupt decampment. She looked up at him in vague exasperation. "Okay then, what brilliant ideas do you have for tracking down this Max Duncan?" she countered. "If you don't want to do another stake out in front of a strip club, I've got no problem with that but we still really need to find this guy."

"Max Duncan?" repeated Ichabod unevenly.

"Yes, Max Duncan." She frowned. "Why, what are you talking about?"

"The very same," said Ichabod hastily but then he was back to staring at her intently, as though he was waiting for her to say something.

"Well?" asked Abbie expectantly.

"Well, what?"

Abbie rolled her eyes at Ichabod's sudden vagueness. "Well, do you have any other ideas for tracking down Duncan then?"

"Ah, no, not really." Ichabod grimaced. "I concur, we should go back there, perhaps enquire inside this time." He looked at her warily. "Do you wish to go there tonight?"

Abbie shook her head. "No, I can't tonight. I've got somewhere I need to be." Suddenly her sister's words of warning were rattling around her head again. Maybe going to see Edward by herself wasn't such a great idea after all. It annoyed Abbie but Jenny was right – she did have a weak spot when it came to her old flame and right now she felt somewhat vulnerable. Abbie would have died before admitting that to anyone but with everything that was going on in her life and the way she was feeling so damn tired all the time, it was hard not to feel like she was on the verge of being overwhelmed. Abbie knew she should probably just give up the whole idea of going to this gala and showing Edward that she was well and truly over him but there was still some sliver of that rebellious, self-destructive streak inside of her that was pushing her to go. "What are you doing tonight?" she asked impulsively. "Do you want to come with me to a thing?"

"A thing?"

"Yeah," said Abbie, trying to sound casual, "it's a thing. I think I'm going to need someone in my corner." That was too revealing so she hastily followed it up. "Not that it's a big deal. I just thought you might like to do something else with your night other than sit in that old cabin and read."

Ichabod made a pained expression. "I like reading."

"And I like pizza but it's nice to have a change now and again."

"Oh, ah, well—"

Ichabod seemed to be having trouble making a decision so Abbie made it for him. She always felt better when she took control of a situation. "Good, so that's a date then," said Abbie firmly. She climbed off the bed. "Let's see what they've got in regular beds." Abbie walked off, reassuring herself that tonight was going to be just like she said – no big deal. If she could handle headless horsemen, how hard could it be to deal with an old boyfriend?

Tonight was going to be easy. It had to be. She was due for a change of luck.

**A/N: So, is it becoming a bit clearer where I'm going with all of this yet? Next chapter is going to have the Captain in it – looking forward to writing for Orlando. ;) **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N****: So, a shorter chapter this time, guys, sorry about that but it was getting too long so I had to split it in what felt like a logical place. The next chapter will have a fair bit going on while this one is more 'talking heads' but I hope you enjoy it anyways. :D **

**BTW, in my last author's note, I mentioned input from my readers shaping this story. Well, this is a case in point coming up. Annber03 mentioned she was keen to see what the story was with Duncan in upcoming chapters. Confession time – I didn't really have anything planned for him. He was just a plot point to get them in that car outside a strip joint. LOL But then, I thought about it and because there is interest there, I've come up with something to greatly increase his presence in this fic that I wasn't going to explore beyond that initial discussion about him. I've actually thought up a fun scenario with it all and it got the creative juices flowing. Thanks, Annber! And that's what I love about fan fic and the reader participation. Reading what people are thinking and feeling really inspires the muse to come up new ideas and I really love that. It's like I'm going on the same journey the reader is with where this fic might end up. Such fun. :D **

**Anyways, enough from me. You'll see what I've got planned for Duncan in later chapters, but first, let's see what you make of this one, eh? **

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Captain Irving handed Abbie a piece of paper from behind his desk as she and Ichabod stood in his office. "This is the statement the witness gave in the hit and run. I don't like it. There is something going on with this one. I want you to re-interview the witness."

Ichabod watched as Abbie accepted the piece of paper and scan it. He was still trying to regroup after the strangeness at the bedding establishment during their lunch break. Ichabod wasn't entirely sure what had happened and now he had an evening ahead of him which he was more uncertain about. He didn't know what to think and it was distracting him mightily.

Abbie looked up at Irving. "You think she's lying?"

"I think I always side-eye a girlfriend's exonerating testimonies of a guy looking at some serious jail time." Irving shrugged. "Maybe she'll open up to a woman."

"So, you want me to be all touchy feely with her?" asked Abbie wryly. "Exploit the feminine bond?"

"I want you to be the excellent cop that I know you are and get to the truth," said Irving calmly. "It can't all be about undead horsemen and the end of days. We're the thin blue line which holds society into account and until the end of the world does show up, we're going to continue to do that."

Abbie nodded. "Of course, sir."

Ichabod decided some time and space might help him make sense of the apparent shift in his relationship with the Lieutenant. This seemed to be the perfect opportunity to unobtrusively withdraw. "I do not believe my services are required for this assignation," he said. "I will retire to do some research."

"Fine," said Abbie easily. "I'll see you tonight. Be at my place by seven."

Ichabod opened his mouth to try and find a way out of their planned rendezvous that night but the Lieutenant was already gone. He grimaced at the lost opportunity but then he hadn't actually decided what was the best way to broach this subject or indeed, if it should be broached at all. Ichabod hovered around the door of Captain Irving's office, reluctant to leave.

Irving looked up from where he was scribbling down some notes. "Is there something else you needed, Crane?"

Ichabod hesitated and then closed the door to the other man's office. He walked up to Irving's desk. "Captain, you're a man of the world."

"Okay," said Irving slowly.

Ichabod caught himself fidgeting on the spot and instantly put a stop to it. He forced his hands behind his back, clasping them there neatly. "I… ah, I find myself in need of wise counsel on a matter of some delicacy."

Irving dropped his pen and leaned back in his chair. "I'm listening."

Ichabod paused again, trying to choose his words carefully. "I believe you to be a man experienced in the ways of the modern woman."

"The soon to be drying ink on my divorce papers might suggest otherwise," said Irving dryly, "but go on."

"I, ah—" Ichabod cleared his throat and moved a little restlessly on the spot. "I find myself in a quandary as to the meaning of a certain event and would be most grateful for some illumination on this matter." He squared his shoulders, preparing to dive in. "You…ah, you've known Lieutenant Mills for as long as I have and I believe you to be a man with no little manner of insight into the human condition."

"Crane, are we going to be circling the wagons around to an actual question at some point?" asked Irving in exasperation. "I'm not getting any younger here." He sat forward in his seat and looked Ichabod up and down. "Okay, something's happened between you two, I can see that. What do you want me to do about it – pass her a note in Gym class?"

Ichabod frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

Irving waved away the question. "Wrong crowd, never mind. What's the problem here exactly?"

Ichabod attempted to choose his next words very carefully, not wanting to besmirch the Lieutenant's good character in anyway. "There was an occurrence of a… that is to say there was an exchange between Miss Mills and I that has confounded my every attempt to understand it." He looked hopefully at the Captain. "And I had hoped you might be able to offer some wise counsel as to how I should go forward."

"Maybe if you actually told me what that exchange was rather than tap dancing around it, I could," said Irving in exasperation. "Just spit it out, Crane. What happened with you and Mills?"

"She kissed me," blurted out Ichabod and instantly regretted his lack of delicacy.

Irving's eyebrows shot up. "She kissed you?"

"Most decidedly so," said Ichabod unevenly.

"You mean, like a kiss on the cheek?"

Ichabod shifted uncomfortably on the spot. "No, it wasn't on the cheek."

"But it was like one of those quick pecks to say thanks or something?" pushed Irving.

Ichabod paused, remembering the languid movement of the Lieutenant's lips over his, warm and inviting. And then there was her tongue. He blushed a little to even think about it and immediately felt guilty. Ichabod made an unhappy face. "I do not believe that what we shared could be called a peck unless things have greatly changed between men and women in this age."

"And how did this non-peck come about?" asked Irving in confusion.

"Last night, during our vigil over the Bump N Grind—"

"Romantic," noted Irving, tongue in cheek.

"It was anything but," protested Ichabod hotly, horrified that the Captain might think that either one of them found such a location to be stimulating in anyway. "We both commented as much and the very implication that—"

Irving held up his hand. "Okay, enough with the moral outrage. I get it. There was no romantic glow surrounding the evening. Then how did the kiss happen?"

Ichabod was still somewhat confused about that point himself. "Well, we were discussing beavers—"

Irving's eyebrows arched again. "Beavers?"

"Yes, beavers," said Ichabod, not sure why that element of his story should capture the other man's attention. "I was informing the Lieutenant of their many uses." He could see that the Captain was now looking at him strangely. "You do know what a beaver is, don't you?"

"The real question is, Crane, do you?" asked a straight-faced Irving.

"Yes, of course I do," said Ichabod in confusion. "I do not understand this ages' fascination with beavers. The Lieutenant sported an expression not dissimilar to yours when we started discussing them."

"I bet she did." Irving waved him on. "Okay, keep it moving. What happened next?"

"I was talking and then turned to see that the Lieutenant had fallen asleep during our discussion."

Irving's eyes narrowed. "And what, you kissed her?"

"No!" said Ichabod in dismay. "May I remind you that I am a married man?"

"Married to a woman who has been dead for two hundred and fifty years," observed Irving.

"And I have been dead for two hundred and fifty one," said Ichabod tightly.

Irving pursed his lips. "Okay, granted, as grey areas go, it's pretty damn hazy."

"I promised Katrina fidelity with my mind, body and soul," said Ichabod intently, "until death do us part. There is no haziness on my behalf."

"So, wait a minute, you're saying Abbie kissed you?"

"Yes."

"But you just said she was asleep."

"When I went to wake her, the kiss occurred," Ichabod clarified.

"Well, there you go," said Irving, looking a little relieved. "She was asleep, she could have been kissing anyone in her dreams."

"Captain, she opened her eyes, looked squarely into mine, said my name and then kissed me," said Ichabod unevenly. "Believe me, I wish I could dismiss this event as an aberration of sleep but just today she had me inspect her bedding."

Irving tilted his head. "Is that some kind of Old English euphemism I should know?"

"No," said Ichabod in consternation, "my meaning as is as my words rendered them." Sometimes dealing with the people of this age was downright exhausting. "And now she has asked me to accompany to her an event this evening."

"You two have been joined at the hip since you pulled a night of the living dead," countered Irving. "You're always spending time together. What's the big deal?"

"Miss Mills referred to it as a date," said Ichabod unhappily. "And my understanding of that word date in this age is when an interval of time is spent together in pursuit of furthering a romantic interest between two parties."

"Granted, it's not the Hallmark definition but essentially accurate." Irving scratched his cheek. "And what has Abbie said about all of this?"

Ichabod threw up his hands and made a frustrated noise. "Nothing, absolutely nothing. I have no clear indication of what she is thinking at all. I am completely at a loss."

"That's pretty much par for the course when dealing with women," said Irving with a sigh. "Any man who says he knows how women think is either a liar or an idiot."

"Then you see my conundrum," said Ichabod desperately. "I do not wish to betray my marriage, as ambiguous as its present condition might be but I do not wish to cause offense to the Lieutenant if I have not understood this situation correctly." He made a distressed noise. "But if the Lieutenant has developed feelings for me of a tender persuasion, then I must ensure that I do not encourage them in anyway." Even as Ichabod said that, he had no clue as to what he might have done already to encourage her, so doing less in that area was going to be challenging seeing as he thought he was doing nothing already. Was there such a thing as less than nothing?

"And you want my advice about what to do?"

"Please," said Ichabod desperately. "I do not wish to cause a rift between Miss Mills and I but also do not wish to, well, encourage feelings I am not in a position to reciprocate."

"On that note, just exactly what are your feelings for her?"

Ichabod moved a little restlessly under the Captains steady look. This was something he hadn't given himself over to thinking about. "We are bound together through fate, we are the Witnesses and—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, destiny and all that." Irving waved away Ichabod's words. "That wasn't my question, Crane. I asked how you feel about the woman?"

Ichabod paused for a long moment, mulling the question over in his head. "Lieutenant Mills is very dear to me," he said slowly. "It is she, more than any other, in this strange new world, whom I find the deepest connection with. I would do anything to protect her from any and all harm."

"So, she's like a sister to you?"

"Yes," said Ichabod and then couldn't help but remember the softness of Abbie's lips moving languidly against his own. He unconsciously licked his lips at the vivid memory that felt anything but brotherly. "No." Ichabod shook his head. "I mean, I do not know, it's not as simple as that." His brows furrowed together. "I do not know what Lieutenant Mills wishes from me and I do not want to create awkwardness between us by discussing this matter and causing her any discomfort."

"But you're cool about doing it with me?" asked Irving wryly.

"It is different between you and I," said Ichabod stiffly. "We speak man to man. Men are able to speak frankly of such matters. It's is much more indelicate to involve a woman in such directness."

"And if you've gotten the wrong end of this particular stick, there is a good chance she'd shoot you."

Ichabod grimaced. "The thought had occurred." If he was misunderstanding the situation utterly, he could not imagine the Lieutenant taking too kindly to any implications of inappropriateness on her behalf. "Though Miss Mills is quite tiny in stature, she is most indomitable in spirit." He made a face. "I would not wish to be on the wrong side of her wrath."

"Very sensible."

"So, what should I do? How do I break this stalemate between us without causing embarrassment or blood shed?"

Irving leaned back in his chair and made a steeple of his fingers, tapping his two index fingers together as he contemplated the question. "Alright," he said at last, "you want my opinion and here it is – ignore it."

Ichabod made a surprised face. "Ignore it?"

"Yes, you've got more to lose by opening your mouth and getting it wrong then keeping your mouth closed and seeing where the chips fall."

"You're advising me to do nothing?" asked Ichabod in consternation.

"You're British, aren't your people taught to repress things from birth?" shot back Irving. "Well, my advice to you, Crane, is repress the hell of this. No good can come of bringing all of this out into the open."

"But—"

"You wanted my advice, that's it," said Irving firmly. "If Abbie isn't saying anything, you shouldn't say anything either." He sent Ichabod a warning look. "Now, is that all that's on your mind, or is there more Dawson's Creek crap that we have to deal with?"

Ichabod didn't understand the other man's words but their meaning was clear. He inclined his head. "Thank you for your time, Captain, I'll take your words under advisement." Ichabod went to leave but was stalled with his hand on the door.

"Crane."

He turned back. "Yes, Captain?"

"You and Mills, you're the two Witnesses, the ones standing between this world and a series of dark forces looking to end that world. You've got bigger problems then some kind of potential romantic entanglement issue. Call me crazy, but I'd like to know that the two people charged with stopping the end of the world are giving that task their full attention rather than making goo goo eyes at each other any chance they get."

"Goo goo eyes?" repeated Ichabod with real affront.

"You get what I'm saying here, right?" Irving pushed, ignoring his protests. "Big picture, Crane, keep with the big picture. There are a lot of people in the world, including my little girl, who is depending on you two, even though they don't know it. You and Abbie were chosen for a reason – I don't know how or why or even who by, but it is what it is." He sent Ichabod a warning look. "Make it work." Irving's lips thinned. "And that's an order, just in case you were wondering."

Ichabod made a regretful face. "I wasn't but thank you all the same for your directness, Captain." He walked out, closing the door behind him. The other man's words had been a sobering reminder of what was at stake here. Ichabod closed his eyes and tried to formulate a way forward through this confusing maze of feelings and duty. Preferably before tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N****: So, just watched the episode 'The Vessel' last night and I have to say I'm a bit torn. It was a great episode but what got me was that it copied some of the stuff I had for this fic! Okay, I know technically the original can't copy anything but I'd already written the Abbie/Jenny scenes when I watched 'The Vessel' and went, oh snap!, we're kind of doubling up here a bit. And the whole demon possession thing… well, that was another double up for this story but mine is different, so there is that. Anyways, it was kind of one of those things where I'm pleased that I'm thinking along the same lines as the writers of the show because that will (hopefully) make this story more authentic in its feel – which is one of the major prerequisites of fan fic IMO. But it's also a bit of a bum because you don't look as original. Oh well, that's the way the cookie crumbles, I guess. LOL Just for the record though, I had all the ideas and themes of this story before I watched the last part of the season. I'm just sayin'. ;)**

**Anyways, so thrilled people seemed to enjoy the Irving/Ichabod interactions. How did you like that bit of alliteration, eh? Lol They are fun to write for and I will have more coming up. Hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a reasonably long one so hopefully it's worth your while making your way through it. Thanks again for reading…**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Abbie swished her hand back and forth in the tub of warm, scented water filled with bubbles, making sure it was the perfect temperature. She had an hour and a half before she had to be ready to leave and a nice long soak in the tub was calling to her. Maybe it would take away some of the tension she felt about tonight. And that ever present exhaustion. Abbie knew she could call it off at any time but her innate stubbornness wouldn't let her. She quickly disrobed and stepped into the bath, sinking down into the welcoming warmth of the bath and sighed happily. It felt so good. She sunk down until her chin was just touching the top of the bubbles and closed her eyes, letting the aromatic water soothe away all of her anxieties.

"Abbie!"

"What?" she shouted back. All attempts at relaxation were immediately rendered useless at the sound of her sister yelling her name through the door.

"Are you done yet or what?"

"I've just gotten in," she yelled through the door. "Can't I get five minutes to myself?"

Suddenly Jenny was at the door, peeking through the crack. "You've been in here an hour."

Abbie looked at her over the top of the side of the bathtub like she was crazy. "No, I haven't. I just got in this minute."

"It's been an hour, at least," argued Jenny. She pointed at her foot which was now sticking out of the water. "Look, you've gone all pruney."

Abbie looked at her foot, opening her mouth to tell Jenny she was crazy but then closed it again when she saw her foot was indeed all wrinkled, as though it'd been in water for a long time, rather than the couple of minutes Abbie knew to be the case. It was then that she realized the once warm water of her bath was suddenly cold and her bubbles were almost gone. She sat up in the bath, confused now.

"You'd better get moving otherwise you're going to be late," Jenny advised her, moving away from the door but still talking. "Unless you've come to your senses and have decided to call the whole thing off."

"I'm still going," said Abbie, still distracted by what had just happened. "It's not a big deal and I'm going to prove that to you."

"I think you mean prove that to yourself," countered Jenny wryly. "But whatever. I'm going out tonight too, just thought I'd let you know, seeing as you're my warden these days."

"Don't call me that," said Abbie in frustration as she stepped out of the bath and grabbed a towel from the rack, wrapping it around herself. "Where are you going?"

"I was thinking of robbing a couple of banks and then probably getting some tattoos, maybe a piercing."

Abbie's lips thinned. She walked out of the bathroom and sent her sister a disapproving look. "Jenny."

"I'm going to see an old friend. No biggie." She smiled sweetly. "You know, just like the night you've got planned."

"Just don't do anything stupid," said Abbie worriedly.

"Right back at you, sis," said Jenny, leaning against the sofa.

Abbie glanced at the clock and saw she had less than half an hour to get ready. How on earth did she lose an hour like that? She must have fallen asleep in the bathtub. It was a miracle she didn't drown. "I have to get ready. Can you let Crane in if he turns up?" she asked, hurrying towards her bedroom.

Jenny was now at the door of that room. "You're taking Crane with you tonight?"

"Yes," said Abbie distractedly as she grabbed her dress and slipped behind the screen in her bedroom, hurriedly dressing.

"So, you're taking your current boyfriend to see your ex-boyfriend?" mused Jenny. "Gee, what could possibly go wrong with that scenario?"

"Would you stop making those kinds of comments about Crane and me?" asked Abbie in agitation as she scrambled into her dress. "He doesn't get your sense of humor and besides, it's not funny."

"Does he know he's tagging along as a human shield between you and Teddy boy?"

Abbie made a face at her sister's insight but refused to admit to it. "That's not what this is."

"You want Crane there as a buffer between you and the ex," continued on Jenny relentlessly. "Just in case you're not as over him as you keep claiming."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"So what, you thought you and Crane don't spend enough time together already? You thought you needed another excuse to hang out."

Abbie pulled up the straps of her too expensive dress and walked out from behind the screen. "What is it with you and Crane and me?" she asked in frustration. "You're always making these snide little remarks about us and I don't know why."

Jenny folded her arms in front of herself and gave a dry laugh, looking away. "Of course you don't."

Abbie frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?" She shook her head. "Just what is your problem with Crane?"

"I don't have a problem with him," snapped Jenny.

"So, it's just me then?" threw back Abbie. "I don't know what you want me to say or do, Jenny. I don't know what the issue here is. If you can't tell me—"

"I don't want you to like him more than me," blurted out Jenny and then she looked embarrassed, wrapping her arms around her waist and refusing to meet Abbie's shocked gaze.

"Wh-what?" gasped Abbie, taken aback.

Jenny glared at her. "You like Crane more than me. You'd rather be with him than me, fighting demons by his side and not mine. We were in this together first, Abbie. It should be me and you against the world. I waited all of this time for you to see the light, to admit that what we saw, what happened to us was real and now that you have, it's Crane you want to team up with."

Abbie couldn't hide her shock, not having had the first idea that was how Jenny saw things.

Jenny's lips tightened. "Forget about it," she said in annoyance. "It doesn't matter." She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.

Abbie immediately followed her, grabbing at her elbow. "Wait." She tugged on Jenny's arm, forcing her to stop. Abbie swung Jenny around so they were facing each other.

"You don't have time for this," said Jenny shortly, shaking off her hand. "You're going to be late."

"I have time for this," said Abbie seriously. "Jenny, you're my sister." She laid a tentative hand on Jenny's arm again. "You're my family, my only family. You and me, we've shared things that no one else will ever know. I know things got bad between us for a long time but that didn't change what we are, what we'll always be." Abbie bit her bottom lip. "I'm sorry that-that I don't know how to show you what you mean to me, that I'm no good at talking about feelings and I spend a lot of my time running from the past." She looked away abruptly. "I do know that I do that, I do. Maybe that's why tonight is so important to me. I don't want to run anymore." Abbie looked back at her sister. "The people that hurt me, the people I hurt," she said quietly, "I haven't wanted to face them for the longest time but I don't want to be that person anymore." Abbie struggled to find the right words. "Jenny, it's always been just you and me and it always will be. Crane is, well, he's Crane." She gave a hopeless shrug. "I don't have a neat box to put the guy into but I do know he's not you. There is only one Jenny in my world and I'm just so happy she's on my side." Abbie made a tentative gesture. "You are on my side, right?"

Jenny looked like she was struggling with a lot of emotion. "Yes," she said quietly, "I'm on your side, Abbie."

Abbie let out a little breath of relief. "It's taken me a long time to get here, Jenny and I know you've been waiting for me but there is no one I'd rather have with me through all of this. I want us to be a team again, like we were before that day in the forest."

"I want that too," said Jenny unevenly.

There was an awkward moment between them and Abbie broke it, reaching out and drawing her sister into a tight hug. It felt good, it felt like she was finally home again. "Everything is going to be okay," she promised Jenny, holding her tight in her embrace. "We're going to work out this mess and fix it, together."

"You bet we are," said Jenny with suitable bravado. "The Mills sisters are taking names and kicking ass."

Abbie smiled at that. "Yeah, we are." There had been so much tension between them for so long, it felt good to finally clear the air properly. It shocked Abbie to know Jenny felt insecure about their relationship when Abbie had always felt that way herself, because of what she'd done. It was incredibly comforting to know that Jenny still wanted and needed a sister as much as Abbie did.

Jenny was looking over her shoulder as they hugged. "So, has your ass always been that shape or what?"

Abbie pulled back from the hug and slapped her sister's arm at her teasing, her comment breaking the high emotions between them. "Shut up! There is nothing wrong with my butt!" She hesitated and then looked over her shoulder back down at it. "Is there?" This dress really was a departure from her normal choice for clothing and Abbie was starting to feel a little self-conscious. She smoothed down the clinging, white material which closely contoured her hips and stomach before collecting around her neck in a somewhat plunging neckline. It felt incredible on and fitted like a glove but now Abbie was starting to worry.

Jenny smiled indulgently. "You look amazing. Professor Teddy Boy is going to be eating his heart out when he sees you in this."

Abbie couldn't help but smile at that. "Good," she said in satisfaction, finally admitting aloud that this had more than a little bit to do with revenge. The two sisters looked at each other and then burst into laughter, a shared knowing between them.

#

Max Duncan licked his finger and tapped it against the bottom of the iron, pulling it back quickly when it gave a little hiss. He nodded approvingly and laid out his dark purple button up shirt out onto the ironing board. Starting to iron out the creases of his favorite party shirt, Max started up a little whistle. Seeing as he hadn't made it to his favorite club last night, he figured he owed himself a night out on the town that night, to make up for it. His preferred dancer only worked on Thursday's but it was better than staying home and watching repeats of 'When Animals Attack'. He was just working his way carefully around the collar of his shirt when the room became suddenly cold. Max breathed out and could see his breath in the abruptly freezing air. "Oh crap," he whispered weakly. All the hairs stood up on the back of his neck and it wasn't because of the cold. A floorboard creaked behind him and Max tightened his grip on the iron, knuckles whitening.

"Aniimmaa," hissed the voice behind him.

Max remained frozen to the spot, not noticing he was now burning a hole through his shirt. "It-it's safe," he stammered. "Just like I promised you."

"Aanniimmmaa," growled the voice, this time more agitated.

"I swear, ain't nobody going to find that book," said Max hastily, eyes glued on the wall in front of him. That stupid freakin' book. You break into one lousy house and find a book covered in gold and precious stones and you think you've hit the jackpot. How was he to know that it was going to end up being a noose around his neck, one that kept on tightening?

"Prrootteecct," ordered the voice.

Max swallowed hard. "I told you—"

"Ddaannggerr."

Max's eyes widened even as he watched a sheet of ice snake its way up the walls of his dingy apartment. "What kind of danger?" he asked unhappily. "What's happening?"

"Thheyy seeekk thhee Aannimmma."

"Who do?" asked Max anxiously. "Who knows about the book?"

The mirror on the wall in front of him was frosted over from the freezing temperature of the room but the ice blurred and revealed two people sitting in a car at night, talking. A white, bearded man with long hair and a small, black woman. His brow knitted together. "Who are they?"

"Ddeesstroy," ordered the voice. "Ssooaakkk tthhee eartthhh withhh their blloooddd."

Max wanted to tell the creature behind him that he was a thief, not a murderer but he knew there was no point. He knew the rules – it was kill or be killed. The choice wasn't that hard. "Where do I find them? I don't even know who they are." Suddenly Max's head was filled with information about the two in the mirror, flashes of their lives and memories overwhelming him. He dropped to one knee, unable to stand against the onslaught of information. The ironing board would have crashed to the ground as well but it was frozen solid, the freezing air having done its job. Suddenly he could feel the icy breath of his tormentor on his neck and he recoiled in fear.

"Ddeeessstroyy!" the thing bellowed, striking fresh fear into Max's heart. He knew what would happen to him if he didn't obey.

Max's eyes snapped open as he had a clear vision of where he'd find the two unfortunate souls who'd offended his master. There was nothing to be done but to do as he'd been commanded.

#

Ichabod stepped into the moving box and pressed the button on the wall, making it light up. He still didn't understand why stairs no longer seemed an acceptable way to transport a person from one place to another. These modern people and their love of complicating simple systems which were proven to work still confounded Ichabod. He clasped his hands behind him, patiently waiting for the box to ding and tell him he was on the right floor. Ichabod still wasn't even sure that he was doing the appropriate thing by agreeing to the Lieutenant's request of accompanying her tonight and he desperately wanted to do just that. The Captain had told him to subdue any feeling of unrest but that was far easier feat to give voice to rather than actually achieve. The doors of the up and down box slid open and it was to reveal Miss Jenny standing there.

She smiled to see him. "Hey Crane. How's it hanging?"

"How is what hanging?" he asked in confusion, stepping out of the elevator.

"Never mind," said Jenny as she breezed past him and stepped into the space he'd just vacated. "Abbie's almost ready, just trying to decide on which shoes to wear."

"I am not sure I'm suitably attired for this affair," frowned Crane, looking down at his usual overcoat and britches.

"It's alright," said Jenny dismissively. "Abbie wants you for your body, not your clothes."

Ichabod opened his mouth to demand clarification of that frightening statement but the elevator doors were already closing on Jenny, whisking her away.

He looked up to the heavens. "Lord give me the strength to weather this night," he requested unevenly. Ichabod reluctantly turned around and headed towards the Lieutenant's abode. He knocked on the door. The words of cordial greeting he'd prepared died on his lips as Abbie opened the door. The breath caught in Ichabod's throat when he saw the Lieutenant's choice of attire for the evening. He made a vaguely strangled sound as he tried to not look at the way the shimmering material of her dress clung to every inch of her. It was like no evening attire he'd ever seen before. Ichabod's eyes darted away nervously, trying to find something benign to say but nothing was coming to mind. Abbie didn't seem to notice his agitation.

"I'm sorry, Crane," she said hastily. "I'm not quite ready yet." Abbie stepped back, indicating he should come in. "Just give me a minute."

"There is no need to hurry yourself on my account, Lieutenant," he said stiffly, watching as she ran around the apartment. "I am most happy to wait for you to finish dressing." _Please God, let there be more dressing to be done. _

Abbie closed the door and looked up at him. "Well, what do you think?"

"About what?" asked Crane, determinedly holding eye contact with her and making sure he looked nowhere else.

"Do I look okay?" She sounded suddenly nervous.

"I-ah, well, umm…" Words escaped Ichabod as he desperately worked at having no opinion on the subject.

Abbie's brow wrinkled in concern. "Do you think it's too much?" she fretted. Abbie turned around and walked over to the full length mirror near the door and reviewed her reflection in the mirror, twisting this way and that, anxiously inspecting herself.

Ichabod was now confronted with the sight of the plunging back of Lieutenant Mill's attire. A vast expanse of her creamy, coffee-colored skin was on display and Ichabod blinked to see it. "If anything, I believe a strong argument could be made that your attire is entirely too little," he said unevenly. Ichabod frowned, a little distressed. "Is there portions to this garment that you have neglected to avail yourself of, Lieutenant?" he worried, unable to hold back his concerns any longer. Whilst Ichabod had slowly been getting used to the altered modesty of this world, particularly the women, it was rather unsettling to see the usually sensibly and appropriately garbed Miss Mills in so very little. He really hadn't been expecting this.

"Oh yes," said Abbie quickly, "it's here." She walked over and picked up the length of sheer fabric and wrapped it around her shoulders.

The see-through wrap did nothing to provide any further modesty to her wardrobe choice but instead provided an intriguing veil through which to glimpse at the smooth skin beneath. If possible, it was even more beguiling.

"Oh yes," said Ichabod weakly, "infinitely better." He fought the urge to recommend the heavy knitted sofa throw as a more appropriate choice for covering her shoulders. However, Ichabod suspected his input on the matter would not be appreciated. He bit down hard on his tongue instead.

"I'm just have to find my necklace now," she said moving items on the table and kitchen bench. "I had it but I put it down to try on some shoes."

Ichabod caught a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye and walked over to the source. In the bowl containing car keys was a gold necklace with a simple drop diamond hanging from it. "Is this the item you are seeking?" He picked up the delicate piece and let it dangle from his fingers.

"Yes," said Abbie in relief, hurrying over to him and taking the necklace from his hand. She went to put it on. "Stupid clasp," Abbie muttered as she fiddled with the tiny lock. "It always sticks." She finally managed to undo it and then placed the two ends around her neck, attempting to do it up again. Her face screwed up in concentration as the necklace proved too tricky for her to do up again. "Crane, help a girl out, will you?" She turned her back on him, both hands up holding the ends of necklace.

Ichabod recoiled a little. "What do you wish of me?" he asked in distress.

"I want you to bake a chicken," said Abbie impatiently. "What do I think I want you to do, Crane? Can you see to do up the necklace or what?"

Ichabod peered at the necklace but made sure to keep a respectable distance between himself and the Lieutenant. "I believe I can be of assistance," he admitted reluctantly.

"I know you're used to whiling away the centuries, Crane but if you could manage to do this tonight, that would be super swell," said Abbie in exasperation.

"Very well," grumbled Crane, making short work of the clasp, securing the two ends.

"Thank you," said Abbie, smoothing down her necklace. "That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

Ichabod gave a weak smile. "I lived to tell the tale." Not that he would be telling any kind of tale about helping a woman other than his wife to dress herself of course. Ichabod felt yet another flash of guilt at the thought of Katrina.

Abbie turned back to him. "Shoes?"

Ichabod frowned at her. "Yes?"

"What do you think about them?" she pushed him impatiently.

"I… ah, well, I'm a great exponent of them," said Ichabod in confusion. "I am very much in their favor. A sturdy, well-made shoe can provide protection and—"

Abbie rolled her eyes at him. "I don't want your philosophy on footwear, Crane, just tell me which pair of shoes I should wear." She looked down at her feet.

Ichabod followed her gaze to see the Lieutenant was wearing two different types of shoes. "Shouldn't they match?" he asked in consternation. The fashions of this era truly did confound him.

"It's like being annoying is your superpowers these days," snapped Abbie. "I'm trying both on to decide which one is better and I was asking for your opinion."

"As both are ridiculously and I might add, dangerously elevated, I see either choice as a possible death trap," concluded Ichabod.

"That's easy for the guy who's over six foot tall to say," said an irritated Abbie. "Some of us need the elevation, as you call it." She looked down at her shoes again. "I think I like the left one better." Abbie kicked the right shoe off and then hobbled over to the sofa where the match for her left shoe was sitting by the coffee table. She slipped it on. "Okay, I'm ready." Abbie picked up a small white purse and her car keys and started towards the door. "You coming?" She opened the door and turned around. "Crane?"

Ichabod stood in the middle of the room, hesitating.

Abbie groaned. "Come on, Crane, don't do this. I really need you tonight."

Ichabod started to sweat. "You do?"

"Don't make me say it again," said Abbie, wrinkling her nose. "Can't I just tell you I want you and there be no questions asked? Aren't we at that point of our relationship yet?"

"Ah…" squeaked Ichabod, really not knowing what to say to that.

Abbie shook her head at him and walked over, taking his hand. "Come on, let's go already. Just remember, whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. At least that's my theory going into this evening."

Ichabod reluctantly let the young woman pull him towards the door. "Is there a likelihood of eminent death attached to this evening?" he asked fearfully. Why did that sound preferable to being alone with the Lieutenant and that impossible dress of hers?

"Of course not," said Abbie impatiently as they headed towards the elevator. "It's just a figure of speech. No one is going to die tonight."

"You know, Lieutenant, in this currently tumultuous times in which we find ourselves, perhaps it is better not to tempt fate with such emphatic declarations," offered up Ichabod as he took his place by her side in the moving box.

"We're due a night off, Crane," said Abbie determinedly. "And tonight's the night. We're owed."

"Mm," said Ichabod murmured, not entirely convinced about that sentiment but trying to be agreeable. "Perhaps you are right, Miss Mills and this evening will be without incident." _Please God, let this evening be without incident._ It was a dim hope but one Ichabod clung to like a man holds onto a plank of wood while trying not to drown in the ocean.

But hopes were made for dashing…


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N****: Hi all, thanks for turning up for the next chapter. :D **

**I had fun with this chapter, so I hope you do too. See you soon…**

**CHAPTER SIX**

Abbie handed her car keys to the valet and walked over to the steps of the old colonial mansion where the gala was being hosted. She looked up at its sweeping structure, lit brightly for a party and took in an unsteady breath. An urge to run overtook her but she valiantly pushed it away. It had been six years. She wasn't that impressionable kid anymore. All she wanted to do was look Edward in the eye and feel nothing and then she could just let go of that part of her life. For so long she'd tried to deal with things in her life by ignoring them or pretending they hadn't impacted on her. Abbie had convinced herself it had made her strong, resilient but now she was seeing that it only made her hollow. She didn't want that. The world could be ending any day, she didn't want to live with anymore lies or half-truths.

"I know this house," commented Ichabod, coming to stand by her side. "This is the residence of Dr and Mrs Harrington. Her family was old money from England and he was a very well-respected practitioner of medicine. He had a great gift for surgery. Jonathon Harrington saved many lives on the battlefield."

"Well, today it's a reception hall for hire," said Abbie, watching all the elegantly clothed people drift into the house which was full of light and music. "Weddings, birthdays, the odd Bar Mitzvah."

"This house used to be a home," mused Ichabod a little sadly. "They had four children, all boys, full of mischief and merriment."

Abbie took her eyes off the building and looked up at Ichabod. "Sometimes I forget how weird this whole thing must be for you."

Ichabod gave a regretful smile. "I must confess to feeling somewhat torn most days, as though I have a foot in two, entirely different and irreconcilable worlds. I sometimes ponder where I'm meant to belong. This age is not my own but even if I were to return to my own, after all the wonders I have seen and experienced, I do not know if I would find my place there, either."

"You can never go home again," murmured Abbie, thinking of the old saying and her own experiences with feeling displaced her whole life. Impulsively she reached out and took Ichabod's hand, squeezing it tightly in silent empathy for his plight. She saw Ichabod was looking down at her with an intent look now and she smiled up at him reassuringly. "Home is where the heart is, Crane," she said. "It's an old saying—"

"I am unfamiliar with it," interjected Ichabod.

"I figured," said Abbie wryly. "My point is, you find your home with the people you love and who love you. The place or even the time doesn't matter."

Ichabod inclined his head. "Those are very wise words of counsel, Lieutenant."

"You know what else I realized, as trite as it sounds, but loving other people starts with loving yourself and I've not been great with that in the past. There are a lot of things in my life I regret, things I'm ashamed of and wish hadn't happened. I wanted to pretend that all of those things never happened but they did."

Ichabod had a confused expression on his face. "Lieutenant, why are we here? What is this?"

"Technically it's a fundraiser for the local college but the truth is…" Abbie paused and took a deep breath. "The truth is I'm done running from my feelings. I need to face things in my life that I've been avoiding and just be honest. I just want everything out in the open. No more pretense about how I feel about anything or anyone."

Ichabod's eyes widened and he looked suddenly stricken. "Pretense?"

Abbie shrugged. "You know what they say – honesty is the best policy."

"But sometimes discretion is an honorable alternative," said Ichabod hastily. His stare became intense. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"And sometimes it's just running from the truth," said Abbie firmly. "This is going to happen tonight, Crane, with or without you."

His face wrinkled in confusion. "I do not see how that is possible."

Abbie couldn't help but smile. "Alright, you got me on that one. I need you, otherwise you wouldn't be here." Her expression became more somber. "Just promise me one thing," she requested seriously. "No matter what happens tonight, don't leave me. I talk a big game but the truth is, I'm more than a little nervous about how this is all going to turn out."

"An apprehension you are not alone in," said Ichabod weakly.

Abbie frowned as she looked up at him. "What do you have to worry about, Crane?" After all, it was she who was facing down one of the most traumatic experiences of her life.

"So many, many things," said Ichabod unevenly. "I cannot give count to their number."

"Right," said Abbie slowly. Sometimes she felt she understood this man inside out and what he was fighting for, what made him tick. Other times he was a complete and utter enigma. Like right now, he was acting a little strangely and she supposed she should be concerned but for her, there were bigger things to worry about. "Okay, let's do this already. This dress isn't built to withstand the elements." She gave a little shudder and rubbed her arm to ward off the cool of the night.

"Perhaps if there was more of it," observed Ichabod, glancing at her outfit before his eyes skittered away. "Such a garment is clearly inadequate to ward off anything."

"That isn't the reason I bought the dress," said Abbie wryly, embracing her newfound truthfulness. "I bought it to give men a heart attack, one man in particular."

Ichabod made a pained expression. "If that is your wish, then I believe your mission accomplished." He watched several men's gaze linger towards Abbie as they walked past with their partners for the evening. "And then some."

Abbie hoped Ichabod was right. She needed to have the upper hand in all of this. Edward always made her feel like a tongue-tied school kid back in the day and Abbie really didn't want to be that way when they met up again. "Come on," she said determinedly, "let's get this over with."

Abbie moved purposefully up the wide staircase which led to the grand entrance of the mansion. She blinked as she came fully into the light of the vast reception area where other guests were milling about, chatting, champagne flutes in hand. A waiter wafted past with a tray of such drinks and Abbie immediately swooped on it. She took two champagne flutes from his tray, smiling her thanks and handed one to Ichabod. "Bottoms up," she instructed him.

Ichabod accepted the drink and looked down at it in his hand. "Perhaps a small quantity of libation is called for—" He stopped abruptly as Abbie down her drink in a couple of gulps. "But then again, perhaps cooler heads should prevail," said Ichabod hastily.

Abbie was eyeing off his drink. "So, you're not going to drink yours then?" She took the glass from Ichabod's hand and downed more than half of it in one go. The alcohol hit her system and warmed her from the inside out. That felt a bit better. Some things in life just called for a little Dutch courage.

"Lieutenant," said Ichabod, sounding mildly horrified, "have you forgotten you drove here tonight? I do not believe you will be able to walk from this event, let alone drive, if you continue to imbibe with such rapaciousness."

"Relax, Crane," said Abbie dismissively as she headed towards the archway which led into the main reception area. "I could have another seventeen of these and still be a better driver than you." She looked back over her shoulder and saw the worry etching his features. "But don't worry, that isn't the plan tonight. Remember, tonight isn't going to have a death toll."

"I don't know, clear heads and a sense of propriety have seemed to have fallen early this evening," grumbled Ichabod.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

They were in the main ballroom now and Abbie couldn't help but scan the crowd for Edward. She couldn't see him. It would almost be par for the course if he hadn't ended up attending. After all, she'd never contacted him to say she was planning on going. Maybe the man had better things to do then schlep all the way to Sleepy Hollow from New York. Talk about anti-climactic.

"Sir, Madame?" A tray of bite-sized appetizers was suddenly in front of them, being offered by one of the many wait-staff scurrying around.

Ichabod inclined his head. "Thank you, good sir." He took one of the little offerings.

Abbie followed his lead, more to have something to do with her hands then any real need for food. Her stomach was too knotted up with anxiety to really care about food.

Ichabod already had his appetizer in his mouth. His eyebrows shot up as he chewed. "Such deliciousness in a small morsel. What is the name of this delight?"

"They're crab cakes, sir," answered their waiter.

"Indeed?" said Ichabod, helping himself to a handful. "A most agreeable delicacy. At last I have found something in this new age to redeem its gastronomical qualifications to me."

"Um, okay," said the waiter, looking a little confused now. "Have a nice night."

"And to you as well," said Ichabod before downing another of the crab cakes.

Abbie's lips twitched as she watched him wolf down the tasty morsels. "I'm so glad we could redeem ourselves in your eyes, Crane. It's nice to know this century isn't a total loss for you now."

"Your century is not without its benefits but you must admit, Lieutenant, this overly packaged food which is so proudly proclaimed as being fast in nature, is not of a very agreeable standard." He eyed the crab cake she was still holding. "Will you be actually consuming that cake of crab in the foreseeable future, Lieutenant?"

Abbie smiled and handed it over to him. "Knock yourself out. And you can't judge our food until you've tried the onion blossoms at Sadie's. They are to die for."

Ichabod was already chewing on the last crab cake as he glanced around the room. "I am intrigued. I shall look forward to sampling this blossoming onion at a later date." He moved so that he was standing directly in front of Abbie. Normally she didn't take much notice of their height disparity but as they'd been standing off to one side of the main ballroom area, Abbie's back was against the wall and Ichabod was now looming over her, completely blocking her view of everyone else in the room. Abbie tried to peer past Ichabod but he continued to stand in front of her. "Crane, you're in my way. Step to one side, I can't see anything."

"An unhappy but necessary consequence of you, yourself, not being seen," said Ichabod, keeping himself squarely in front of her.

Abbie looked at him blankly. "What are you talking about?"

He lowered his voice, ducking his head to talk to her. "Ever since we stepped into this ballroom, there has not been a male eye in the room which has not found its way towards you." Ichabod's brow furrowed and he looked very anxious. "And I will spare you the indelicacies of what each one is thinking but sufficed to say, their thoughts are most assuredly not of a noble nature." He clasped his hands behind his back and straightened up, the way he did whenever he was about to make a point. "And it would be very ill of me not to offer a safeguard from their ungentlemanly stares."

Abbie arched an eyebrow. "You don't think it's the guy dress up in the 19th Century clothes which might be grabbing their attention at all?" she asked laconically.

Ichabod's lips thinned. "I can assure you, Lieutenant, not one of these men are even aware of my presence by your side," he said dryly.

"You're not by my side, you're in my face," said Abbie in frustration. She put a hand up to Ichabod's chest to try and get him to step aside. Abbie needed to see Edward before he saw her, to prepare herself. If she was lucky, he'd really let himself go and gotten fat and bald. "I didn't spend six hundred dollars on this dress just to have you put Baby in the corner."

Ichabod's jaw dropped, even as he stood his ground. "Six hundred dollars?" he squeaked. "Have you taken leave of your senses, Lieutenant? That is more than five year's wages in my day."

Abbie blushed, having already found it hard to justify the expense to herself. She didn't need Ichabod's disapproval. "Well, it's not your day any longer," she snapped. "And I work hard for my money and if I want to treat myself now and again, I don't owe anyone an explanation." This stupid dress. It was becoming a thorn in her side.

Ichabod was now openly staring at her dress, looking to be in a state of shock. "But how can so little cost so much?" he spluttered. "On what was the money spent? Is this material made from the tears of mermaids that it should be worth such a bounty? Did angels spin it into being on golden looms?"

"Are you done?" asked Abbie in mild irritation. "It's a dress, get over it."

"But six hundred dollars," said a bemused Ichabod. "I cannot fathom how such a sum could be justified—"

"Alright," ground out Abbie through clenched teeth, "you're not a fan of the dress. I get it." She grabbed the arm of a passing waiter and took another crab cake from his tray. "Have a crab cake and change the subject." Ichabod reluctantly accepted the crab cake but looked like he had more to say on the matter. Abbie had other ideas. "And just step out of my way, will you?" She tried again to push on his chest again to get him to move but Ichabod remained obstinately in place, even as he managed to eat the crab cake at the same time. Abbie made a frustrated noise and stepped to one side and Ichabod immediately matched her. She stepped to the other side, Ichabod followed suite. "Stop that!" Abbie stepped to the other side again, Ichabod followed.

"Our first dance," said Ichabod with teasing amusement.

"I didn't ask you here to be my human shield," said Abbie hotly but then stopped abruptly, blushing a little as she was forced to admit to herself that was exactly why she'd asked Ichabod along, just as Jenny had said.

"Max Duncan," said Ichabod suddenly.

Abbie frowned in confusion up at him. "What?"

"You told me to change the subject, so I am. I did some research this afternoon through Corbin's notes, to see if I could unearth any further information on the man."

"I told you, we're having a night off from all of that." Abbie paused, unable to help herself. "Did you find anything?"

"It seems Sheriff Corbin believed Mr. Duncan had stumbled across the Codex Aureus Anima."

Abbie blinked. "And what is that exactly?"

"There are several Codex Aureuses which have been created over the centuries. They are select books of the bible which have been ornately decorated in gold and precious stones. Some are in the possession of museums and collectors, whilst others have disappeared into the mists of time. Sheriff Corbin believed Max Duncan to be in the possession of one called the Anima."

"Have you heard about this book before?" asked Abbie intently.

Ichabod lifted a shoulder. "I have heard whispers of such a book but the generalized belief is that it does not really exist. Anima, roughly translated from the Latin, means breath of the soul. Legend would have us believe that this book carries not only the Gospel according to Saint John, but an addendum listing many notable demons and how to vanquish them."

Abbie's eyes went wide. "This golden bible might have a way of destroying Moloch?" she gasped.

"_If_ it exists and _if_ the whispers about it are true, then, yes, it may well contain such a thing."

Abbie couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

"You said you did not wish to discuss the business of the oncoming Apocalypse tonight."

"We have a lead as to how to stop Moloch in his tracks," bit out Abbie. "You know, Moloch, the demon which haunted me since childhood, the one who stuck your wife in limbo and you're meant to deliver me up to at some point so he can finish what he started. That Moloch."

"I am more than aware of the voracity and scope of our enemy, Lieutenant," said Ichabod a little stiffly. "I do not need the reminder."

"Then why didn't you say something earlier?" she asked in exasperation. For the first time Abbie had a glimmer of hope that they could actually get the upper hand in this war.

Ichabod's brow furrowed, clearly not happy at being asked to explain himself. "Tonight has been a distracting evening." He shrugged. "I was distracted and acting under your very own instructions to put aside the issues of the day."

Abbie's mind was racing, hardly able to believe what she was hearing. All thoughts of Edward were gone from her head as she couldn't contain a glimmer of hope they'd really seen for having a real chance against Moloch. "Forget that," she said excitedly. "We have to go and find that book."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"But we don't have the first idea where to begin."

Abbie squared her shoulders determinedly. "We'll figure it out, we always do."

"So, we're leaving then?" asked Ichabod uncertainly.

"Don't worry," she said dryly, "you can take some crab cakes for the road."

"That wasn't my first concern," said Ichabod, "but a good idea, nonetheless."

"If we can find this Anima book, it could change everything for us." She put a hand on his arm and squeezed. "We'd have a real weapon to use against Moloch at last." Abbie's heart was just pounding in her chest at even the thought. She hadn't allowed herself to feel how much the powerless against that creature had been weighing her down before this. Now there was a hope of freedom and it was all she could think about. Abbie grinned up at Ichabod. "This could change everything for us," she breathed, almost dizzy with the possibilities.

Ichabod moved his hand to grip the arm she was holding onto him with. "I know," he said quietly, "but we must be muted in our hopes, Lieutenant. We have yet to prove its existence beyond mere legend."

"It exists," said Abbie firmly, not sure why she was so certain, but she was. "And we're going to find it." She nodded. "Together. You and me." Abbie took his arm. "Come on, let's get out of here." As Abbie went to pull Ichabod after her, she stepped out from behind him and almost ran into the man who was approaching. She took a surprised step back and looked at the distinguished, grey-haired man smiling down at her.

His handsome face broke into a smile, tanned skin wrinkling into easy laugh lines. "Abigail," he said in delight, "I thought that was you. I'm so happy you came."

Abbie stared at her former lover, looking just as sexy and confident as she remembered him, completely caught off guard. "Ah, hi," she said weakly. "It's… ah, Edward, yes, hello… ah…" She trailed off, cursing herself for the inglorious start to what was meant to be a moment of personal growth for her.

_Crap. _


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N****: And here we go with the meeting. Thank you to everyone who has commented with this story. As this is my first SH fic, it really does help me to know what works for you guys. **

**Hope to have another chapter for you by tomorrow. We'll see how the muse goes. See you soon…**

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Abbie took a deep breath and attempted to get a hold of herself. She smiled calmly up at him. "Hello, Edward, it's good to see you too." She glanced over the broad-shouldered, physically fit man who, even in his mid-fifties could turn heads. "You're looking well." There, that sounded suitably casual, didn't it? Abbie wanted to be polite but indifferent even as she willed her erratically beating heart to behave itself.

Edward's warm gaze swept up and down Abbie, taking far more time than was necessary. "And you're looking breathtaking, Abigail," he said huskily. "I can hardly believe it but you've become more beautiful since I last saw you."

Abbie stared back at him, remembering the way Edward's smooth, flattering words had used to make her feel. Back then she'd been starved for affection and this man had always made her feel like the only woman in the world when they were together. But then, of course, that hadn't been true, remembering his wife. Abbie blinked, the memory putting things back into perspective for her. "Thank you," she said politely.

Edward stared at her for a long moment, as though he was waiting for her to say something else but when she didn't, he finally took in the presence of Ichabod standing by her side. His gaze took in the way Abbie still had hold of the other man's arm. "You know, I almost didn't see you standing there," he commented easily. "You were being guarded so diligently by your companion here."

Abbie opened her mouth to refute that last statement, even though it was true but Edward had already turned his attention to the younger man. Only, he wasn't the younger man, he was the much, much older man. _Damn it, Jenny was right_. This was only making a complicated situation more so. Abbie grimaced. _Damn it_.

Edward straightened up, making full use of his height, which still had him a couple of inches less than Ichabod and smiled cordially at him. "Professor Edward Townsend," he said formally, holding out his hand towards Ichabod. "English Professor at Cornell."

Ichabod accepted the other man's hand and shook it. "Professor Ichabod Crane, History Professor at Oxford.

_And here we go_. Abbie tried to keep a neutral expression, bracing herself for how this was going to play out. Why hadn't she thought this through? All that had been on Abbie's mind was her meeting with Edward again, she hadn't really considered what was going to happen when she'd have to introduce Ichabod.

Edward arched an eyebrow. "Really, you don't say?" His eyes narrowed a little. "You know, I do some guest teaching over in Oxford every summer, have done for many years, and I can't say I've ever seen you on campus."

"Such a thing would be highly unlikely," said Ichabod calmly. "I believe my tenure was well before your time, Professor."

Edward looked him over again. "What are you, thirty, thirty-five? Were you teaching at twelve? I was unaware Oxford was offering a pre-pubescent teaching tenure these days."

Ichabod remained at ease by her side, but his tone held the slightest hint of warning at the other man's mocking tone. "I'm a little older than I may first appear," he said smoothly.

"Is that right?" asked Edward skeptically. "So, what brings you to Sleepy Hollow then? Just visiting?"

"Crane is working with me, at the Sleepy Hollow PD," interjected Abbie quickly. "In an advisory capacity."

Edward looked even more confused now. "Is there a huge need for history professors when solving crime?"

"You'd be surprised," said Ichabod dryly. He and Abbie exchanged knowing looks.

Abbie needed to get Edward off this topic of conversation. No good could come of it. "I was surprised when I got your note. I didn't expect you to attend something like this, so far out of your way."

"I felt like a trip to the country," said Edward. His blue eyes were back on her, full of unspoken subtext. "It wasn't until I was standing in front of all that beauty again that I fully realized how much I'd missed it."

Out of the corner of her eye Abbie could see Ichabod roll his eyes, clearly picking up the fact Edward wasn't talking about the landscape with that last comment. "Is your wife here?" she asked brightly, trying to keep all of this in context.

Edward made a regretful face. "Unhappily, Vanessa and I are no longer together. We separated three months ago."

"You did?" asked Abbie in surprise and immediately felt guilty. Had the woman finally found out about their affair? Is that why it was over? Abbie really hoped that wasn't the case. Her stomach twisted in remorseful knots.

"It was time," said Edward philosophically. "We'd drifted apart over the years and well, we just looked at each other one day and realized we were done. It's a very amicable split."

Ichabod was looking at him strangely. "That seems a somewhat oxymoronic statement to me. How can an end to an institution as sacred as marriage be amicable and if it is, then why end it?"

"You're not married," he said dismissively. "It's impossible to explain."

"I am indeed married," countered Ichabod disapprovingly, "and I would never be so contemptuous of the vows I have made to my wife. A man's word is his bond."

"You're married?" gasped Edward, looking between the two of them in disbelief. "Really?"

"Not to me," said Abbie swiftly. "Crane and his wife…" Abbie thought about how she could even begin to come up with some kind of plausible story to describe what was happening with Katrina and failed, "well, it's complicated."

"Isn't it always?" said Edward, a little sarcastically. "Still, it must be nice that despite all those complications you managed to find time to accompany Abigail to this event." His smile became a little mocking. "Even if you did have to rush straight from that Renaissance Fair and didn't have time to change your clothes."

Abbie groaned internally at Edward's swipe at Ichabod's clothing. She teased him about it regularly but that was different. The two men weren't exactly warming to one another and she didn't want this to get messy. Well, messier, anyways.

Ichabod held Edward's gaze steadily. "My apparel is from the 18th Century whilst the Renaissance is widely acknowledge as having spanned the 14th to 17th Centuries. A more fitting observation would be to ask of my involvement in a Colonial gathering." Ichabod smile was cool. "It would not have added any particular hilarity to your statement, but it would have at least been accurate, thus saving your words from complete redundancy."

Abbie looked on in amazement as Edward actually looked lost for words at Ichabod's calm rebuke. It was obvious the other man wasn't used to being put in his place so effortlessly. For some reason, Edward's floundering for a comeback was making Abbie wanted to start giggling. She stifled the urge, not sure if it was going to turn into hysterical laughter.

Finally Edward seemed to collect his thoughts, seeming to want to ignore Ichabod now. "You know, Abigail, I thought I heard you were going to be working for the FBI." He frowned, looking overly concerned. "Did I hear wrong?"

"No," said Abbie, "I was accepted in but I chose not to go." She and Ichabod exchanged glances again and he smiled at her, both knowing what she'd given up to fight the good fight. "Something came up. Something I couldn't turn my back on."

"But working for the FBI is such a huge opportunity for you," protested Edward. He put a hand on Abbie's bare arm to get her attention back to him. "I'd hate to think my brightest student would turn her back on such an opportunity for-for…" Edward glanced at Ichabod a little disdainfully. "For, well, anything or anyone really. You were always so driven, Abigail. I must say, this is disappointing news for me. I thought you had more heart than this and certainly more dedication but I guess I was wrong."

Abbie was taken aback by Edward's words of censure and her old insecurities about disappointing people she looked up to reared its ugly head. She opened her mouth, wanting to protest his opinion of her decisions but Ichabod was quicker. He moved so that she was slightly behind him now, something Abbie noticed he did when he suspected there was danger in a situation. Sometimes it annoyed her, knowing full well she could take care of herself but Abbie knew Ichabod never meant to imply she was anything less than capable with the protective gesture. He was a product of his time and Abbie couldn't hold that against him. If she was honest, when she wasn't finding it exasperating, it was rather sweet.

"To speak so dismissively of the capacity of Miss Mills heart means you have no understanding of it or her," said Ichabod roundly, his tone clipped with his obvious outrage on her behalf.

"Miss Mills?" repeated Edward in consternation.

"Yes, Miss Mills," said Ichabod defiantly, obviously not feeling the need to defend his choice of name for her. "Her courage and commitment in these most trying of times cannot be questioned, indeed, I will not allow it to be questioned," he continued on hotly. "The sacrifices she has made on the behalf of all of humanity are vast and far from over. I will not have you dismiss her great honor and accountability to a cause which encompasses the fate of the entire world as a weakness, when it is anything but."

Abbie tightened her hold on Ichabod's arm. "Okay, Crane, that's enough. Edward doesn't want to hear about this." She could see the confusion on the other man's face and dreaded what questions Ichabod's outburst was going to bring up.

"What cause?" asked Edward in consternation. "What sacrifices?" He screwed up his face. "Abigail, tell me you haven't gone and joined some kind of idiotic cult?" Edward's tone was openly hostile now as he addressed Ichabod now. "Is that what this is? Are you some kind of self-proclaimed leader of another one of those whacky doomsday cults?"

"Excuse me?" asked Abbie in disbelief. "What about me says mindless cult follower?" She couldn't help but be completely insulted by even the idea that Edward would think she was so simple minded to be taken in by one of those groups.

Edward shrugged. "Everyone can have a weak moment. Sometimes people get lost and lose who they are."

Abbie stared up at him. "You know, Edward, you're right, sometimes that happens and the lucky ones, they wake up one day and see their mistakes and choose to make a change." For so long she'd held up Edward as this huge, almost untouchable part of her history. He'd been so charming and she'd been so lost in him that suddenly being able to see him for who he really was, just a man with his own insecurities was nothing short of liberating. She'd been the little kid with the sheets pulled up over her head and too afraid to deal with the monsters under her bed. Well, these days, monsters were her specialty and she was done cowering from them, real and allegorical. "I'm sorry, but Crane and I really have somewhere else we need to be." Abbie felt re-energized, as though a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her feelings for Edward didn't have any kind of hold over her anymore because there were no feelings. "It was good to see you." She went to move past him, Ichabod in tow, eager to get back to what was really important, finding a way to defeat Moloch.

"But, you've just gotten here," protested Edward. "I was hoping we could talk some more." A seductive smile touched his lips. "I thought I might even be able to steal a dance or two," he said huskily. "You know, like we used to."

Abbie could see Edward turning on that infamous charisma of his but felt oddly unmoved by it now. "I've already got a dance partner," said Abbie. She looked up at Ichabod, lips twitching as she referred back to his earlier teasing comment about their first dance. "I'm not really looking for another."

"Eddie, there you are. I thought I'd lost you." A young woman with long blond hair and even longer legs sidled up to Edward and slipped her arm through his, snuggling up close to his side. She pouted prettily. "You left me all alone and everyone here is so boring."

Abbie blinked as she looked at the other woman who couldn't be any more than twenty years old.

"Oh, yes, sorry about that, my dear," said Edward unevenly. "I was just reuniting with an old friend."

Looks like the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Abbie attempted not to roll her eyes. Talk about gold idols having feet of clay. She'd thought she was special but the limpet hanging off Edward's arm and his every word suggested she was anything but.

"Hi, I'm Emaalliee," smiled the girl. "That's with three 'e's and two 'a's and one 'i'."

"A veritable cornucopia of vowel usage," commented Ichabod, tongue in cheek. "Your parents must be so proud."

Emaalliee seemed to miss the irony in that statement. "My parents wanted me to stand out."

"By misspelling the name Emily?" queried Ichabod. "What an intriguing device by which to draw attention to one self."

Abbie had to look away to hide her smile, not wanting to be rude but Ichabod was making her want to laugh and it just highlighted the ridiculousness of the whole thing. This was what she'd been worried about facing down all these years?

"Perhaps people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, _Ichabod_," threw back Edward, all attempts at masking his hostility towards the other man gone now.

Emaalliee tilted her head at him and scrunched up her youthful features. "Ichabod? Is that even a real name?"

"It is a biblical name," explained Ichabod, "from the book of Samuel." He half-smiled at Abbie. "As is Abigail." Ichabod's attention was back on Emaalliee. "Unfortunately, the Bible made no mention of any Emaalliee's, not even ones with three 'e's, two 'a's and an 'i'."

"That's okay," said Emaalliee blithely, "I'm a Buddhist anyways."

"And on that note, Crane and I really do have to be going," said Abbie determinedly. She felt like they were one laughter track away from being an episode of 'Friends' and she and Ichabod really did have bigger fish to fry. Abbie smile up at Edward. "Great to see you again. Hope you both have a lovely night." She started towards the door.

Edward tried to stall her. "But—"

Ichabod stepped to block Edward as he went to follow after Abbie. He inclined his head politely. "If you'll excuse us, we have pressing business to which we must attend. It's been nothing short of an education making both of your acquaintances. A good evening to you both." Ichabod was by her side in an instance as they left Edward and Emaalliee in their wake. "Interesting fellow," commented Ichabod as they walked out into the reception area, now nearly at the door.

She stopped walking and turned around to face him, just needing to explain herself. "Okay, yes, we had an affair," said Abbie defensively, "only I didn't know we were having an affair because I was an idiot and didn't work out he was married until it was too late. I was left humiliated and heartbroken and it wasn't my finest hour." Abbie crossed her arms in front of her chest, chin jutting out defiantly. "I'm not proud of what I did and ignorance is no excuse. I hate that I was that person because that isn't how I see myself and if you've got something to say, then you should just say it because after this, we're never going to discuss it again!" Abbie steeled herself for a lecture from Ichabod, or even worse, his disappointment in her. At some point since they'd first met, his opinion of her had become very important to Abbie. It was a little bit scary to acknowledge that but it was the truth, nonetheless. Abbie squared off against Ichabod, just wanting to get this over and done with and clear the air between them. "Well, I know you've got something you want to say. You always have something to say, so spit it out already." Abbie held her breath as she watched Ichabod seem to be choosing his next words carefully…


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N****: Hi guys, sorry this chapter took me a little longer to get to you. It's a bit longer, so I hope that makes up for the delay. It seems folks enjoyed Ichabod in the last chapter, which is awesome. I do love to write snark and when it's delivered in an English accent, it just seems that much snarkier. LOL **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks, as always, for reading. :D **

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Ichabod regarded the Lieutenants rigid stance, the defiant set of her shoulders and knew she was braced for a fight. It was a confrontation he did not feel compelled to provide her however. His confusion as to why he was asked to be present at this affair dispelled on the meeting of Edward Townsend. The man's instantly proprietary overtures towards Miss Mills immediately told Ichabod they'd been engaged in relations of some kind in the past. It was also obvious to him that Professor Townsend would have gladly renewed that alliance if given the slightest encouragement from Miss Mills. It was with some relief Ichabod detected no such inclination from his companion. Ichabod had met men of Townsend's ilk before. They were men who liked to present a façade to the world which did not match what lay underneath all the smooth and flattering words. And, Ichabod noted, they were always very careful in the choosing of their audience in which to perform these shallow machinations of manipulation. Pitted against one who was not so easily swayed with some bluff and bravado, they quickly deflated. Such was his experience with the learned Professor Townsend tonight.

"Come on, Crane, just spit it out," ordered Abbie, she pressed her lips together tightly, glaring up at him.

"Is it possible to perhaps secure a further sampling of those delectable morsels of crab cakes before we decamp?" he asked calmly.

Abbie blinked. "Crab cakes?"

Ichabod nodded. "Yes, the one and the same." He looked around. "Can you see one of the wait-staff in the vicinity?"

"So, you don't have anything you want to say about what I just said?"

Ichabod turned his attention back on the young woman. "What would you like me to give voice to? My outrage at your treatment at the hands of that simpering divvy? I would gladly speak at length on the subject but I have a sneaking suspicion that you would not care to hear of my thoughts of the subject."

"You're damned right I don't," said Abbie hotly. "I don't need your pity, Crane."

Ichabod took a step closer and bent his head closer to hers so she could see the intent in his eyes. "It is not pity I offer you, Miss Mills, but rather a virtuous anger on your behalf that you should have been treated thusly by such a poor excuse for a man. He clearly preyed on your youth and vulnerability and from what I can see, has no remorse on the matter. He is a cad of the highest order and impenitently continues in his pursuit of a scandalous penchant for innocents, as the presence of the greatly vowel-endowed Miss Emaalliee can attest to."

Abbie looked a little taken aback at his fiercely spoken words. "It wasn't all Edward's fault," she said evenly. "I-I wanted to believe everything he was saying to me, that I was special and different." Abbie swallowed hard. "And I wanted that to be true so I didn't let myself really question anything about him. I was an idiot."

It caused Ichabod great distress to see the pain on Abbie's face as she reluctantly admitted to what she clearly saw as a moment of weakness. It renewed his disdain for the other man and made him want to turn around and call Townsend out for his reprehensible treatment of such a rare and astounding soul as the one belonging to the woman standing in front of him. However, his need to settle Miss Mills' distress was far more compelling. "Abbie," he began sincerely, with a rare use of her first name, "of all the words which may be summoned to describe you, idiotic is not one of them. Stubborn, certainly; relentless, most assuredly; forthright, kind-hearted, generous, of fierce intellect and fine humor - all of these find a place in the indomitable Lieutenant Grace Abigail Mills who stands before me. A betrayal at the hands of a man you placed your trust in takes none of these attributes from you. Indeed, the very knowledge that you have weathered such injustices and still are able to claim these qualities as your own is a testament to the depth of your astounding character." Ichabod watched some of the tension leave Abbie's body, as though a weight had been lifted from those slight shoulders. He frowned slightly, unhappy that she would have thought that his learning of this portion of her past would change how he viewed her now. "I hope you take my words to heart, Lieutenant, because they are certainly spoken from mine."

Abbie gave an uneven smile. "You're really something, you know that, Crane?"

Ichabod hesitated, not entirely sure what was meant by that. All things around them were 'something' by their mere presence. He knew that wasn't meant as the point of the Lieutenant's comment however. "As long as I am something you may believe speaks the truth, then I will be content," he said, hoping that would cover her meaning well enough.

"How about you and me get out of this place and do something which really matters?" asked Abbie with a smile. "After all, golden bibles which can vanquish demons aren't going to find themselves, right?"

"Indeed," said Ichabod happily. While he'd suffered at the hands of much confusion with the Lieutenant of late, taking his place by her side and going forth into the unknown in search of truth and hope felt intensely familiar and wildly comforting. Clearly the concerns she was carrying in meeting with this charlatan from her past had thrown a pall over the Lieutenant and thereby perhaps explaining her somewhat erratic behavior in recent times. With this matter dealt with and put behind her, she would be once again the no nonsense woman he'd grown accustomed to having by his side. Ichabod's relief at the equilibrium seeming to be restored between them was immense and he was most grateful for the return of their version of normalcy.

Since waking up in a world of which he had no understanding, cut adrift from all that he knew, Abbie had been his one thing to cling to, his point of reference to fix his eyes onto so as not to lose all sense of balance and sanity. Her comforting presence was restored to him and Ichabod had to refrain from the impulse to hug her tightly to him and tell her as much. _But not in that dress._ The wispy attire still unnerved him and he was once again force to avert his eyes as Abbie turned around, looking about herself. Since when did having an actual back to a garment become optional? It confounded Ichabod as to what instrument of engineering ingenuity even sustained the dress to stay on the Lieutenant's form. There looked to be nothing holding it on her person except for, well, her person. Ichabod immediately blushed at that realization, sternly chastising himself for having had such a thought, even if he'd arrived at it innocently. _That bloody dress was going to be the death of him. _

"Crane?"

Abbie impatiently saying his name pulled Ichabod from his reverie. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, what did you say?"

"I said I'm going to the little girl's room," said Abbie in exasperation. "Wait here, I'll be right back and then we'll go."

Ichabod inclined his head. "As you wish, Lieutenant." With Abbie disappearing off into another room, Ichabod was left to try and source some more of those delicious cakes. A tap on the shoulder drew his attention from his search and he turned around to see a vaguely triumphant looking Edward standing there.

"I was hoping you and I could have a word," said Edward, a cool smile on his lips.

"Is that word goodbye?" asked Ichabod evenly. "That would seem to be the most appropriate choice as Miss Mills and I were just leaving."

"Yeah, I don't think Abigail is going to be wanting to leave with you once she hears what I have to say," said Edward, looking very pleased with himself.

Ichabod arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Edward smirked and did a very poor impression of Ichabod's British accent. "Oh yes, that is very much so, _Professor_ Crane."

#

Jenny tapped on the metal door and then glanced around the dinghy alleyway. A huge tabby cat wandered around the corner and strolled up to her, rubbing its ample frame against her legs. "Well, hey there, Garfield." She bent down to stroke the striped orange fur of the affectionate feline. "Been hitting that lasagna pretty hard, huh?" The window slot in the door suddenly slid back and Jenny straightened up, so she could be seen. She smiled at the pair of dark eyes looking at her through the wooden slot. "Any room at the inn for an old friend?" The slot abruptly closed again and there was the sound of many locks being undone and then the door was being opened by a man who was nearly as tall as he was wide.

"Miss Jenny Wren," said the man with carefully combed and oiled grey-hair and a very thick Russian accent. "I knew I would be getting a female visitor tonight, a fork fell to floor when I was having my supper. I not realize it would be you."

Jenny smiled at the older man's superstitious ways. "Hello, Alexi, it's good to see you again."

Alexi Nosachyov beamed his pleasure back at her. "And you, my little bird." He drew her into a bear hug which Jenny returned. When they broke apart he looked down at Jenny feet. "Ah, there you, malyshka." He bent down and picked up the fat cat into his arms. It purred noisily as Alexi rubbed its stomach. "Do I not feed you well enough that you have to go hunting, eh?"

"I think you feed that cat just fine," said Jenny in amusement. "It's huge."

Alexi's eyes sparkled as he cuddled the cat close to him and indicated she should come inside. "I like to spoil my special girl, is Russian way."

Jenny stepped inside the warm kitchen and pushed the hood back from her coat, looking around. A pot of delicious smelling thick, stew was simmering on the stove and the table was set for one with a bowl of the same stew and a glass of red wine. "Spoil her anymore and she'll explode," said Jenny indulgently.

"Eh," said Alexi philosophically as he sat down, the cat now on his lap, "is worse ways to go." He smiled up at her. "Sit, sit, you'll eat with me, yes?"

"I'm not hungry," said Jenny, taking a seat across from him, "but thanks."

"But you will drink with me, eh?" Alexi wasn't taking no for an answer as he poured Jenny a huge glass of red wine and set it down in front of her.

Jenny knew better than to argue, conversations without alcohol were not ones Alexi took seriously and she needed his attention tonight. She picked up her glass and watched Alexi feed a chunk of meat from the stew to the cat, who gobbled it down quickly and then looked expectantly at her master for more.

"Ah, my Anastasia likes her papa's cooking," said Alexis happily. He fished out more meat and fed it to the eager Anastasia. Still watching the cat, Alexis addressed her. "Well, moya sladkaya, what brings you to Alexis' door tonight?" He looked up and fixed her with an intent look, one which belayed his jovial, easy going appearance.

"Can't a girl look up an old friend?" hedged Jenny.

"You are no simple girl and I am no simple friend," countered Alexi knowingly.

"No, you're the Nosey," said Jenny wryly.

"And is it the Nosey you need tonight or Alexi?"

Jenny held his gaze steadily. "The Nosey."

Alexi gave a philosophical shrug of his shoulders. "Always with you, the trouble."

"Yeah," Jenny half-smiled, "always with me the trouble."

He leant forward, forcing Anastasia to try and find a more comfortable position around her owner's wide middle. "What you need from the Nosey?"

Alexi was a well-known pawn shop owner in Sleepy Hollow. What was also well-known, but far less discussed was the fact he was the keeper of secrets and treasures for anyone who knew the right way to ask. Alexi 'The Nosey' Nosachyov worked as a kind of bank vault for anyone with items of a 'sensitive' nature which needed to be stored and regular secured holdings simply wouldn't do. Everyone used the Nosey's discrete services, from thieves to politicians, mobsters to cops. They came from far and wide with their precious items which needed a safe haven. Because of the nature of the clients of the Nosey, no one ever dared touch him. He was outside the scope of both sides of the law, because he held some of their most precious and potentially damaging secrets. No one would ever dare to steal from the Nosey and in return, the Nosey was always the very soul of discretion. Your money bought not only his secret vault but his absolute silence on who his clients were and what he kept safe for them. Jenny knew she had her work cut out for her. "I need information."

Alexi arched an eyebrow. "The Nosey not in business of information. He is in business of secrets."

"I know that but this is important."

"Is always important." He sighed. "I cannot help you, moya dorogaya, even if I would wish it. Ask another favor of me."

Jenny reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a picture of Max Duncan. "I just need to know if this guy is a client of yours. You can tell me if he isn't. You don't have any commitment to the guy if he's not one of your clients, right?"

Alexi hesitated and then took the photo from Jenny's hand. He squinted at it. "Is not client."

"But you know him?" pushed Jenny. "You know who he is?"

"Is Trevor Radinski."

"We know him as Max Duncan."

"Change name often, but I know as Radinski."

"And he came to you? Looking for you to keep something for him?"

Alexi sat back in his chair. "I say no."

Jenny frowned. "You never say no. No questions asked, that's the Nosey guarantee."

"He bring something, something I know is no good." Alexi's face clouded over and he looked unhappy. "I no want any part of it."

Alexi had seen it all over the years, it was hard for her to comprehend what would make him look so nervous just even talking about it now. "What did he want you to look after, Alexi? What was it?"

"Book," said Alexi tersely and then picked up his glass of wine and drank deeply. "Is bible, gold bible."

"A Codex Aureus?" queried Jenny, knowing of their existence. "Where did he find something like that?"

"Trevor thief, not bad thief either," mused Alexi. "He say one night he break into house, found bible and took. Wanted me to use connections to find out how much worth." His lips twisted. "I tell him, no money worth life, to throw book away as soon as possible."

"But why? A book made of gold and precious stones… people are going to be interested in that."

"Da," said Alexi darkly, "the wrong peoples." He shook his head, worry etching his face. "You no go looking for this bible, little one. Is bad, very bad. I take one look at it and I see the evil eye looking back at me." Alexi tapped his finger to his own eye. "My family, we have the second sight, we know evil when we see it. That book is made of evil. You forget about book."

"I think it could help me with something very important," said Jenny earnestly. "I need that bible, Alexi. It might have the key to saving the world."

"Or unleashing new hell upon it." He shook his head once more. "That book is being guarded by something you no want to meet in dark alley." Alexi grimaced. "Or in brightly lit alley. All hairs stand up on back of Alexi's neck when I saw that thing. You no possess book, it possess you." He leaned forward and placed a fatherly hand over Jenny's hand. "You must listen to Alexi now. A bird flew into my window this morning, broke neck. Is bad sign. Is meaning death is coming." Alexi's face puckered in concern. "And then you knock on my door and I know it was warning, for you. Death, he is stalking you, my Jenny Wren, you and those you love. And Death takes what it wants. There is no stopping it." Alexi rapped on the wooden table top three times and then spat three times over his left shoulder.

"Well, if Death wants me, I'm not going to make it easy," said Jenny determinedly. "I need to find this book, Alexi. I don't want to tell you why because I don't want you mixed up in this but I do need your help."

Alexi regarded her steadily and then sighed deeply. "You no change mind, will you?"

"You know I'm as stubborn as hell, so no, I'm not going to change my mind."

Alexi reluctantly let go of her hand and reached for a pen and paper on a nearby bench top. He started to scribble down something onto the paper. "I not know what Trevor did with bible but I know he is creature of habit. He has a couple of places around town he always keeps stuff between fencing." Alexi tore off the list of places and handed them to Jenny. "I not know if bible is in any of these places but is best I can offer."

"Thank you," said Jenny as she gratefully accepted the piece of paper, glancing at it and then stuffing it into her pocket.

"I wish you ask for different favor," sighed Alexi. "I no want my Jenny Wren mixed up in such a business."

"I know, but I can take care of myself." She reached out and squeezed his hand. "But I appreciate the concern."

"I still have your item," said Alexi knowingly. "Safe and sound."

Jenny gave a little smile. "I never doubted it. And you remember what I need you to do if, you know, anything ever happens?"

He tapped his head. "Alexi never forgets instructions. I know what to do."

"Good." Jenny looked away briefly, trying not to think about it. "Good." She forced a smile to her lips as she looked back at him. "Now, enough with the wine. I know you've got a bottle of the good stuff stashed away somewhere."

A slow smile crept across Alexi's face. "I just make new batch. Is very good."

Alexi's homemade vodka was the stuff of legends, at least for those who retained some kind of mental function after drinking it. "Your stuff is always good. Technically a concealed weapon, but always good."

Alexi chuckled. "Then tonight we drink and forget our troubles, eh? Tomorrow can take care of itself."

Jenny inclined her head. "Sounds like a plan to me." She watched Alexi hurry off to retrieve his precious homebrew. A night off from all this crazy sounded like a good idea to her. Maybe Abbie had the right idea after all.

#

Ichabod could see the obvious glee in the other man's countenance as he puffed up his chest a little. "You see, I just made a phone call to a friend of mine at Oxford and had him check the records for the teaching faculty in the History Department and guess what he found?"

"One assumes your question is rhetorical in nature," said Ichabod dryly, fairly certain he knew where this was going.

"No Ichabod Crane teaches there," said Edward triumphantly. "I mean, there used to be, but unless you're three hundred years old, it's not likely to be you." He regarded Ichabod disdainfully. "What did you do, go through the records and find some dead professor's name from the 1700's and decide to steal his identity?" Edward's lips twisted. "Is that the joke, a _history_ professor who stole his identity from history? What's the bet Abigail isn't going to find it that funny when I tell her?"

Ichabod regarded him coolly. "One has to wonder why my identity is of so much importance to you?"

"I don't like to see Abigail taken advantage of."

"I believe you meant to say you don't like to see Miss Mills being taken advantage of by anyone but you." Ichabod arched an eyebrow at him.

Edward shook his head at him. "Wow, that's some shtick you've got going there, buddy."

"Shtick?"

"The obviously fake British accent, the 'Miss Mills' stuff." Edward snorted. "Boy, you really know how to work it, don't you? I just can't believe Abigail would fall for such an obvious ploy."

Ichabod's gaze became cold. "Are you calling me a liar, sir?"

"One assumes that question to be rhetorical in nature," said Edward mockingly, repeating Ichabod's own words back to him.

Ichabod's eyes narrowed, finding the man's impertinence to be beyond the pale.

"Oh, what's this?" sneered Edward. "You going to do all the affronted pride thing now? Are you going to challenge me to a duel? Pistols at dawn to defend your honor?"

"My honor is in no need of defending," said Ichabod tightly. "However there is another that is owed some propitiation on your behalf. Do not tempt me to take up that account, sir, because it would give me great pleasure to do so."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Does it feel like I'm threatening you?" Ichabod held the other man's gaze steadily.

"What's going on?" Suddenly Abbie was back by his side and Ichabod addressed her, eyes still on Edward.

"Nothing, Lieutenant. Unless you count false bravado and posturing as something of note." Ichabod gave a cold smile. "Which I don't."

Edward was eager to impart his news. "I just found out that your boyfriend here isn't who he says he is," he said quickly. "There is no Ichabod Crane who teaches at Oxford."

Abbie and Ichabod exchanged looks. "Is that right?" she said evenly. "Thanks for sharing. Goodnight." Abbie inclined her head towards Ichabod, indicating they should leave.

Edward grabbed at Abbie's arm. Ichabod stiffened to see the other man lay hands on her but Abbie was already dealing with it.

She looked down at Edward's hand gripping her arm. "Do you want to let me go, Edward?"

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"I heard and you still haven't let go of my arm."

Edward finally released her, he straightened up and scowled down at her. "The guy's taking you for a ride, Abigail."

"That's pretty much none of your business," said Abbie coldly.

Edward looked startled. "You know, I never took you for a fool, Abigail."

Ichabod watched Abbie's eyes narrow menacing and for a brief moment he almost felt sorry for the hapless fool standing in front of him. Almost.

"Actually, that's exactly what you took me for," bit out Abbie. "You played me from day one with all of your smooth talk and special attention." She snorted. "And I fell for it because I was young and lonely but guess what, Edward, my eyes are open now and I see you for what you really are and I gotta say, it's not that pretty. I'm all grown up and I'm not in need of someone looking to use me to get them through their midlife crisis."

Edward looked completely astounded but he did his best to regroup. "Oh yes, I can see you've clearly matured, Abigail." He sent a mocking look at Ichabod. "You're all grown up and back in the arms of a married college professor. It's good to know you have a type, although at least with me you knew you were getting the real deal, instead of some two bit shyster."

Abbie stepped up to him, eyes flashing with anger. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about and I don't care enough about you to correct you about anything except for one thing. Ichabod Crane is the noblest, most truthful and honorable man I've ever met and it doesn't surprise me that you can't see that because you don't even know what those words mean! So, why don't you turn around and head back to your little date? I'm assuming you have to get her home before curfew anyway. You know how cranky children are when they don't get to bed on time!" With that, Abbie grabbed Ichabod's hand and practically dragged him from the house, leaving a stunned Edward in their wake.

Despite his much longer legs, Ichabod was forced to trot to keep up with the Lieutenant's angry strides. They were out in the front driveway of the manor, Abbie handing her ticket to the valet and Ichabod couldn't help but grin down at her. The Lieutenant's temper was a thing to behold and quite enjoyable when it was not directed at you. Ichabod had wanted to applaud when she'd spoken her mind to that imbecile but had managed to restrain himself.

"Can you believe that guy?" she fumed. "Of all the nerve. At least we know you have a type," Abbie mimicked sarcastically. She turned her head towards the building and shouted her next word. "_Ass_! I can't believe I ever saw anything in that guy." She gave a humorless laugh and shook her head. "You ever have those moments of utter clarity where you suddenly see everything so clearly and know exactly what is going on?"

Ichabod made a face, thinking of his recent confusion over the Lieutenant's intention for their relationship. He was still somewhat jumbled about that kiss but seeing as Abbie didn't seem like she intended to speak of it, then he was more than happy to follow her lead. "Not of late but perhaps not all moments are obliged to find clarity and are best left unspoken."

Abbie looked up at him in consternation. "What does that mean?" The valet drove her car up beside them, climbed out and handed her the keys.

Ichabod grimaced, realizing they were now talking about what he'd understood they tacitly agreed not to talk about. "Just that not every intercourse between us requires a full explanation." Even as he said the words, Ichabod could help but wish he did have some elucidation for that kiss but then, what answer would he exactly be hoping for?

Abbie opened her mouth and then closed it again, giving him a strange look. "Okay, whatever. I've only got the energy to deal with one guy saying nonsensical things at a time and Edward has used up my quota for the night."

Ichabod glanced past Abbie's shoulder to see a glowering Edward watching them from the top of the stairs. It was all Ichabod could do to refrain from offering the man a jaunty little wave but that would be beneath him to rub the man's defeat in his face. It was still tempting though.

"All I want from you, Crane, is—"

Ichabod pulled his attention from the other man as Abbie addressed him but the next thing he knew, she was flinging herself into his arms. Her action caught him so off-guard and the force of the Lieutenant's propulsion was such that Ichabod lost his footing on the graveled driveway. They both crashed to the ground, Abbie landing squarely on top of him, her softness pressed into every inch of him, stealing his breath as much as the sudden impact with the ground.

_What the deuce?!_

**A/N****: Confusing ending or do folks think they know what just happened? ;) **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N****: Can I just say how thrilled I was with the response to the last chapter. Thank you all so much for taking the time to review. It made my day, it really did. :D **

**Before you launch yourself into this chapter, here's just a by the by for any Tom Mison fans out there… and I'm assuming there is a couple, because, well, you're here. LOL I found a short little story of his, 5 minutes long and it's on YouTube. I can't post the link here because is hinky about that kinda stuff. But, if you put in, The Creep Tom Mison, you should find it. It's quirky and funny but just a heads up, he's not using his usual accent, it's a lower class one, so you might have difficulty recognizing his voice first up for those of you who like to get lost in his dulcet tones. ;) The other thing is that he spends over half of that 5 minutes naked or close to. In fact we get a decent stretch of full backal nudity (the opposite of full frontal nudity, for those wondering ;P), so just be warned about that before you dive in. **

**Anyways, hope you have fun with the chapter and thanks as always for continuing to read. :D **

**CHAPTER NINE**

"Just that not every intercourse between us requires a full explanation."

Abbie opened her mouth and then closed it again, giving him a strange look. She stared at Crane, trying to work out what his last words meant. What should be left unsaid between them? She'd just revealed a huge, humiliating piece of her past and felt pretty exposed just then. Abbie really wasn't up to dealing with anything else. "Okay, whatever. I've only got the energy to deal with one guy saying nonsensical things at a time and Edward has used up my quota for the night." She just wanted to get on with finding this bible and seeing if it really did have any answers for them. "All I want from you, Crane, is—" Suddenly Abbie's attention was caught by a flash off in the distance, over Ichabod's right shoulder. Instinct, premonition – something kicked in and Abbie just reacted. She hurled herself at Ichabod, taking them both down to the ground just as a hail of bullets whistled by overhead, peppering the side of her SUV with large holes. She looked down at Ichabod, who still seemed to be struggling to work out what was going on. "We have to move!" she shouted. Abbie rolled off Crane as they both scrambled to get under the car. More bullets rained down on them, kicking up gravel and rocking her car with their force. Women were screaming and men were shouting as the whole area erupted in chaos.

"Lieutenant," said Ichabod urgently as they took shelter under her car. "Are you unharmed?"

"I'm fine," said Abbie quickly, eyes on where the bullets were coming from. "I saved you, remember?"

"And I'm most appreciative," said Ichabod, flinching as a bullet came a little too close for comfort. "I did not see our assailant."

"He's over in that line of trees on the hill. I saw the moonlight bounce off his rifle sight."

Ichabod followed her gaze and shook his head in amazement. "But that is so far away. How is it possible bullets could travel such a distance?"

"Welcome to the 21st century, Crane, we're now able to kill each other from miles away."

Ichabod grimaced. "A most depressing development and somewhat unsporting in nature." Another hail of bullets, more screams.

"Stay where you are," ordered Abbie. "I'm going for my gun."

Ichabod flicked her an astonished look. "You have a gun secreted upon your person? In that dress? Where?"

Abbie shot him a look of censure. "It's in the glove compartment of the car." As she said that, a fresh volley of bullets puckered the metal frame of said car.

"To attempt entry into your vehicle during this time is both foolhardy and–Lieutenant!"

Abbie ignored his concern and was already rolling out from underneath the car. She didn't think, just kept moving, clicking open the door with her keys and diving inside across the driver and passenger seats, keeping her head down. There was another loud torrent of bullets and the glass in the windows of the car shattered, showering her in glass rain. The noise of the bullets bounced around the car and Abbie instinctively put her hands to her ears to attempt to block out the deafening noise as this latest attack seemed to go on forever.

"—tenant!"

Abbie vaguely made out the sound with still ringing ears. The noise was coming from underneath the car, where Ichabod was still pinned down.

"Lieutenant… answer me… Lieutenant… _Abbie_!"

He was using her first name, Crane was scared. "I'm okay!" she shouted back a little unsteadily, shaking the glass from her hair. Abbie reached out for the glove compartment and retrieved her gun, immediately flicking off the safety. It wasn't going to do her any good with the shooter so far away but she didn't intend to be far away for long.

"Dear God in heaven, woman!" yelled back Ichabod. "I thought you had been wounded or worse. When I scream your name in the middle of a battle, it is simple courtesy to respond with vigorous alacrity so I may be able to draw breath again!"

"You're giving me etiquette lessons on how to act in a shootout?" asked Abbie in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Yes," said Ichabod disembodied and completely unrepentant answer. "Most assuredly."

Abbie rolled her eyes but knew Ichabod was only being so pedantic because he'd feared the worst. So had she, for a moment. Some of those bullets had come very close. Abbie sneaked closer to the window and chanced a look out through the broken window. The direction the bullets were coming from hadn't changed so the shooter was still in that bank of trees. There was no way their assailant had walked to that vantage point which meant he must have had to park up on the dirt road which led up to big house. Abbie realized her only hope of getting to this person was to take a short cut through the large landscaped garden attached to the house which then backed onto the woods. There was an eighteen foot stone wall which blocked off the garden from the front of the house but she could see an area where part of the wall had given way. It was small, but Abbie was certain she could fit through the limited opening. It was the only chance she had of getting around behind the guy and cutting him off before he made it back to his car. Her grip on the gun tightened as the incessant stream of bullets stopped. Abbie guessed he was reloading. "I'm going after the shooter," she announced determinedly. Abbie kicked off her shoes, knowing they were going to be no use to her in a cross country sprint.

"What?" squawked Ichabod. "Absolutely not, Lieutenant. You'll be cut down before you take two steps."

Abbie had to take the chance. She launched herself from the car, adrenalin pumping as she sprinted for the wall. There was no new round of bullets as Abbie squeezed herself into the jagged hole in the wall. Maybe their attacker had just given up? He'd be on the move then, Abbie knew she had to hurry. Her dress caught on a piece of pointed stone and she felt it tear as she pulled herself through the hole. Damn it! Now she was really mad, her dress was ruined. This was turning into one expensive night – her dress, her car. Abbie fell out through the other side of the hole and started to run as fast as she could through the carefully manicured garden.

"Lieutenant!"

She heard Ichabod yell out her name but didn't stop. The blood was pumping through her veins as she dashed through the garden. There was the sound of further gun fire. Damn, this guy really wasn't giving up. He wanted them dead and apparently it didn't matter how many rounds of bullets he used in achieving that. Abbie could only pray that their attacker had been too busy reloading to see her make her break. She also prayed that Ichabod would keep his head down and stay where he was. The shooter seemed to be having trouble reaching under the car with his line of fire and was apparently relying on the large caliber of his bullets to do the work his accuracy appeared to be lacking. Abbie ran through the garden and out into the adjoining woods. She kept her eyes on the row of trees, making a beeline for where the flash of gunfire was coming from. Her lungs felt like they were going to burst but Abbie pushed herself on. She was sick and tired of being shot at, hunted down and just generally terrorized by every two bit demon and human low life who was fighting on the wrong side of this war. Abbie was done cowering from all of the malignant forces who wanted a piece of the Witnesses. A genuine outrage was pumping through her body, along with the adrenalin, as she was done playing sitting duck. They wanted a war, well, a war was what they were going to get. No more playing nice, the gloves were off.

Abbie slowed down as she drew closer to the shooter. The noise of the gunfire was almost deafening as she sidled up behind a tree which afforded her the best view of the man. In fact, their assailant was perched up in a tree with a very serious looking rifle propped up against a branch. Abbie was standing about twenty feet away, to his left and a little behind. The shooter hadn't noticed her approach, absorbed in his rapid-fire assault on the big house across the way. She crept a little closer, picking up a rock the size of a grapefruit on the way. Taking careful aim, Abbie threw the rock as hard as she could at the shooter. Her aim found its mark with deadly accuracy. The rock hit the man on the side of the head and the gunfire abruptly stopped as he was knocked out of the tree. First the man, then his high-powered rifle toppled to the ground. Abbie bolted up to where he'd fallen, not wanting him to have a chance to regain his senses. She stood over him as the man lay face down, her gun trained at his chest. "Don't move!" she barked. "Sleepy Hollow PD."

The man gave a feeble groan, flailing a little on the ground, his face still buried in the grass.

"Turn over, slowly," she warned him. "And no heroics. I'm down a dress and a car tonight. I'm just looking for an excuse to make someone pay."

"Okay," said the man weakly, "I'm turning over. Just don't shoot, okay?" He gingerly rolled over and Abbie was afforded the first proper look of his face.

Her eyes widened. "Max Duncan," she said in disbelief. This was unbelievable. The guy they'd spent all of last night trying to track down was now trying to kill them. Things sure did escalate quickly around these parts nowadays.

Max gave a nervous smile. "Oh, hey there, Abbie."

Abbie tightened her grip on her gun and took a step closer, jaw hardening. "How the hell do you know my name?"

"You know mine."

Her eyes narrowed, not in the mood. "I know how I know you, what I don't know is how you know me." She aimed her gun at his head. "Start talking."

"I know everything about you, Abbie," said Max hastily. "And I know you wouldn't shoot an unarmed man."

"Did I mention I was having a bad day?" she snapped. "Don't tell me what I wouldn't do. I want answers." Abbie jerked her gun slightly to one side and shot into the ground, just by Max's ear. He flinched violently. "And if you're not going to give them to me I don't have any real use for you. So, make yourself useful and start talking."

Max held up his hands in front of himself, blinking away the blood in his eyes from the wound to his temple. "Look, it doesn't matter what I say. None of it matters. You're dead already, you just don't know it yet. You both are."

Abbie shot another bullet into the ground, this time on the other side of his head. Max gave a little squawk, covering his ears. "I'm not the one on the wrong end of this gun," she ground out. "I want to know where that bible is. Where is the Anima?"

Max cringed. "Don't say that name out loud. He'll hear you."

"Who'll hear me?"

"You don't want to know."

Abbie's jaw clenched at the frustrating conversation. "I told you, don't tell me what I want."

Max continued to cower on the ground. "Look, I'm real sorry for all the stuff that happened with your sister in the woods and what's happening to you when you sleep and Ichabod's wife being in purgatory and being the one who is going to sell you out and how that guilt is going to cripple him into killing himself," he said in a breathless run on sentence. "I really am. I ain't lookin' to hurt anyone but I don't have a choice in all of this. I just want to survive this."

Abbie shook her head in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?" She didn't like him knowing so much about her and Ichabod, even if the rest of it didn't make sense. "What makes you think Crane is going to betray me?" First Moloch in Ichabod's vision and now this guy. Abbie really didn't like these mind games. The idea that Ichabod would betray her in some way was laughable but even so, it was getting unsettling, hearing it all over the place. "How do you know all of this stuff about us?"

"I lived your lives, both of you, just for a few seconds, in my head," explained Max unhappily. "He showed me all of your thoughts and feelings and he showed me your future. Believe me, if you saw what I did, you'd be thanking me for trying to make it quick and clean with a bullet."

"You think Crane and I should thank you for trying to take our heads off with bullets?" asked Abbie in disbelief. "And if we're going to end up dead anyways, why try and kill us?"

"My boss isn't known for his patience."

This guy really was crazy and she was done listening to his ramblings. Abbie stepped closer and leant down, her gun bare inches from Max's face. "Tell me where the bible is and who you're talking about," she said fiercely.

"You don't want anything to do with that bible." Max shook his head. "Trust me. Nothing good ever came from messing with that thing."

"Trust the guy who was just shooting at me?" repeated Abbie sarcastically. "No problem, I'll get right on that. You're out of options here, Duncan. Just tell me what I want to know."

Max made a contrite face. "I was out of options the moment I picked up that frickin' book." His eyes locked with hers. "I ain't got no choice. I'm sorry."

"You will b—" Abbie didn't get to finish her warning as Max made a sudden lunge for the gun in his face. He pulled her off her feet, rolling over on top of Abbie, straddling her even as they continued to wrestle for control of the gun. Abbie gritted her teeth and put every bit of strength she had into keeping hold of her gun. Each one scrambled for control of the situation and then there was the sound of the gun going off, one of them managing to pull the trigger, she didn't know who. Abbie tensed and they both stared at each other, wide-eyed…

#

"Lieutenant!" Ichabod watched in horror as Abbie sprinted across the driveway to the large stone wall. It was only then he noticed the few missing bricks and watched, with amazement, as the petite woman managed to squeeze herself through the opening. No sooner had she disappeared through the hole in the wall, the artillery barrage resumed. "Lieutenant!" he roared. Ichabod made a grunt of frustration at her reckless disregard for her own safety. His instinct was to follow her, knowing the Lieutenant would have a plan but Ichabod also knew he would have absolutely no hope in fitting through such a small aperture and even less hope to scale a twenty foot wall. A new barrage of gunfire was keeping him caught under the car but with Abbie off and intent on running down their assailant by herself, Ichabod knew he couldn't stay there. Even if the impetuous Miss Mills had forgotten they were partners, Ichabod had not. He watched the line of bullets sweeping this way and that, assaulting other cars with gay abandon. Ichabod could see their man was one of habit, he swept left to right, and then back again. What he lacked in a talent for marksmanship he certainly made up for in unflagging relentlessness. Ichabod waited until the trail of bullets was approaching its far left trajectory and then he made a dash from out under the car to inside the mechanical beast. He wiggled out from under the car on his stomach and in one smooth motion rolled to his feet and lunged into the front seat. A task made easier by the Lieutenant leaving the door ajar from her rapid decampment.

Ichabod kept his head down as the stream of bullets made their way back to him, the sound of them whistling over his head. He spied the car keys in the foot well of the passenger's seat and he reached out to grab them. Having no idea if this carriage would even be in working order anymore after such an assault, Ichabod knew he had to try. Unable to follow the Lieutenant through the wall, he knew his only chance was to take the longer, less direct route by driving back along the driveway and hopefully arriving in time to provide a united front in dealing with their attacker. Ichabod kept his head down as he inserted the key in the ignition and turned over the engine. There was a depressing lack of response. He grimaced and tried again, still nothing. "I know you are ailing," said a desperate Ichabod to the inert vehicle, being more used to dealing with horses then motorized carriages, "but your mistress is in grave peril and I really must insist you find a way to gather your strength and the will to go on." A reasoned and calm voice often worked for horses, perhaps it would for this mechanical creature as well. Ichabod held his breath as he turned the key again. For a split second there was nothing but then the beast spluttered into life. Ichabod patted the dash. "I am much obliged for your fortitude," he told the vehicle in relief. "This will not be forgotten. Your mistress thanks you, as do I." Ichabod reached out and attempted to put the car into gear. The gears ground out their complaint nosily as he struggled to find first gear. "Come now," he said between clenched teeth, "My belief was that we had reached an understanding, Master Honda CRV. Please do not renege on our agreement now." Ichabod finally felt the stick slide into a gear. He blew out a breath of relief. "Thank you." As the Lieutenant had taught him, Ichabod moved his foot off the clutch while applying what she'd referred to as the gas. The car jerked forwards but then it started to move backwards. Ichabod realized the gear he'd found was reverse but as the hail of bullets were now focused once again on the vehicle, he knew he didn't have time to rectify the situation. He twisted around in his seat so he was afforded a view out the back of the rear window which was now missing any glass. Ichabod pressed his foot down hard on the gas and the car shot off, backwards, along the graveled path. More bullets peppered the hood of the car and suddenly the left indicator light was flashing on and off and the windscreen wipers were scraping noisily across the surprisingly still intact windscreen.

Ichabod flinched as yet more bullets assaulted the now moving target and he was forced to grip the wheel more tightly as one bullet found its mark with a tire. The steering wheel jerked violently under his hand as the rubber of the tire was torn apart, but Ichabod didn't stop. He kept his gaze focused on the road behind him, navigating around the curve of the driveway so he could get back onto the road which led to the house. The car was now leaning heavily to the right, because of the lost tire but it was still moving, and that was all Ichabod cared about. Suddenly the sound of gunfire stopped and Ichabod had a terrible moment of dread. Was Miss Mills already with their attacker? While he had no doubts about the competency of the Lieutenant to face down any given situation, the fact was that they were stronger together rather than apart. He pushed down harder on the gas, willing the carriage to find an even greater speed. What he wouldn't give for a horse right then. At the very least he'd feel like he was moving forwards, instead of backwards, which was a very singular experience, to be travelling at speed, the wrong way around.

Ichabod tore along the road, all of his attention focused on navigating the road at night. He rounded a bend and abruptly came across a car parked off to one side of the road. He went to swerve out of the way but moved the wheel the wrong way because he wasn't thinking in reverse. The back end of the SUV slammed into the front of the other car, spinning Ichabod and the SUV around. Suddenly Ichabod was at right angles to the road and disappearing down the embankment where the road dropped off. He was now driving backwards in a field, foot still planted on the gas. Ichabod shook his head which was now throbbing from where the sudden impact had him banging it on the steering wheel. The car hit a particularly large dip in the field and suddenly the world in front of him exploded in white. The soft, white cushion expanded violently, trapping Ichabod's body and head up against his seat. His arms flailed around, forced to leave the steering wheel as he fought with the giant balloon trapping him in his place. "Bloody hell!" he yelped, struggling against the white menace, trying to breath. His foot finally came off the accelerator and the car simply rolled to a stop and then the motor died. Ichabod scrambled to reach the knife he always kept in his boot. Once he had hold of the knife, he used it to puncture the space occupying cushion. With room to move, Ichabod pushed open the car door and fell out onto the soft grass. He looked back up at the car with the now strips of material hanging from the steering wheel. "What the deuce was that all about?" he demanded to know of the vehicle. It was as though the creature's innards had exploded. "We're on the same side, remember? Your attack was thoroughly unwarranted, sir." There was no answer from the car but Ichabod had worked out that not all vehicles of this age spoke, even though some did. He rolled over and climbed unsteadily to his feet. A sudden shot rang out in the night air, snapping Ichabod's head around and galvanizing him into action. He ran towards the sound of single shot, heart in mouth and fearful of what he might find…

**A/N****: And yes, I've left you with another cliff hanger. I probably should have warned you before this, but I'm a bit of a fiend when it comes to them. LOL Anyways, I'm not a fan of writing action stuff, find it a bit draining) so hope all of that colour and movement made sense to everyone. So, anyone going to lay bets if Abbie has been shot or not? Guess we'll find out in the next chapter. ;) **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N****: Rushing off to work, so it's a post and run. BTW, if anyone knows the exact make of Abbie's car for sure, could they let me know so I can fix up the last chapter? I just took a wild stab in the dark. :D **

**Hope you enjoy the chapter…**

**CHAPTER TEN**

Ichabod burst through the line of trees to find Abbie wrestling with someone on the ground. Actually, it wasn't so much wrestling as her punching the other person repeatedly in the face. "Lieutenant!" he cried out, rushing over to the pair.

"Tell me where it is!" she screamed, not seeming to even notice Ichabod's presence. "Tell me!"

Ichabod bent down and wrapped his arms around Abbie's middle, dragging her off the hapless fellow she was still intent on pummeling. She writhed in his arms like a hellion. "Lieutenant, stop it! Calm down!"

"Let me go, Crane!" she hollered. "He knows where the bible is. He knows and he's going to tell me!"

For someone so small, Ichabod was finding it incredibly hard to contain her wild flailing about. "An unconscious man is able to offer little information, Lieutenant!" he shouted back, tightening his grip on her. "Please, contain yourself. This degree of hysteria achieves nothing."

"It makes me feel better!" she bellowed.

He understood her frustration and even shared it but knew this course of action would get them nowhere. "Be that as it may," Ichabod grunted, still trying to contain her and tightening his hold on her, "I must insist you give way to reason in this matter."

Abbie suddenly stopped struggling, going still in his arms. "I'm fine," she ground out, panting unevenly. "Now let me go."

Ichabod was wary of her sudden mood change. "You are calm?"

"Yes," Abbie growled.

He slowly loosened his grip on her and let Abbie move out of his grasp. Ichabod made a contrite expression. "I am sorry for manhandling you thusly, Lieutenant. I meant no impertinence." Abbie turned around to glare up at him and Ichabod swiftly swept her from head to toe, noticing blood her the bodice of her dress and across her arm. His brow furrowed in concern. "Are you wounded? I heard a shot." Ichabod reached out a concerned hand to check more closely for any kind of wound.

Abbie slapped his hand away. "I'm fine," she said shortly, still catching her breath. "I wasn't the one who got shot. Now, if you're done interrupting, I want to get back to interrogating my suspect."

"Why are you taking this tone with me?" asked Ichabod, taken aback. "We are on the same side. I heard that gunshot and feared someone might have been injured."

There was a weak groan from the ground. "Someone was injured."

"Shut up you!" snapped Abbie. "You shot yourself. And seeing as you spent half the night trying to shoot Crane and me, you're not going to get any sympathy from us."

Ichabod peered down at the bleeding man on the ground who was struggling to sit himself up against a tree trunk while nursing a gunshot wound to the arm. "Is that—?"

"Max Duncan, yes, it is and he was just about to tell me where the Anima was and who he was working for."

Max struggled to his feet, leaning back heavily on the tree behind him. "I'm sorry, Abbie, but you're not going to get the location of that book from me." He spat out some blood and licked his lips. "You two have got enough troubles without it."

"Oh yeah," said Abbie sarcastically, "Max here is trying to look out for us, Crane. Apparently shooting us was him doing us a favor."

Ichabod took a step closer to the man. "Why do you want us dead?"

"I don't," he replied simply. "He does."

Ichabod looked at Abbie and arched an eyebrow. She folded her arms in front of herself and shrugged. "Good old Max hasn't been forthcoming with the identity of this 'he' person he keeps talking about either. We were just discussing that when you interrupted us."

"Perhaps a less aggressive approach might get us further, eh?" suggested Ichabod.

Abbie looked unimpressed. "Knock yourself out."

Ichabod turned his attention back to Max. "Sir, you seem to be one pressed into reluctant service in the matter of disposing of Miss Mills and myself." He ignored the disdainful snort he heard from behind him. "We are the Witnesses—"

"I know who you are."

"Then you must know we fight on the side of good and free will," said Ichabod gravely. "Whatever your past transgressions, there is always the possibility of redemption. Let your actions redeem you now, sir."

"If I tell you anything, I'm a dead man," said Max soberly.

Ichabod was undeterred. "We believe you have information vital in turning the tide of this war in the favor of all that is good and worthwhile. No matter the sacrifice, isn't that a legacy you would wish to leave to future generations?"

Max made a face and looked away. "Hell, I was dead the moment I picked up that bible anyways." He looked back at Ichabod for a long moment. "I can tell you this," he said at last. He crooked a finger, indicating Ichabod should come closer.

Ichabod stepped closer.

"Closer," instructed Max.

"Crane," warned an unhappy Abbie.

Ichabod held a calming hand up to her. "It is alright, Lieutenant." He stepped closer and Max took hold of the lapels of his coat, dragging him down so his lips were against Ichabod's ear.

"The day is coming when her blood will be on your hands," he rasped into Ichabod's ear.

Ichabod stiffened, recoiling against such a suggestion.

"You're losing her already and you don't even know it. She's dying in front of your eyes but you can't see."

Ichabod couldn't help but feel a cold dread shoot through his body at such dire words, he opened his mouth to implore for more information but Max was already talking again.

"The only chance she has is if you don't—" Suddenly Max stiffened and gave a strangled cry.

"Crane, something's happening. Look out!" Abbie was grabbing his arm, trying to pull him away from Max but Ichabod resisted.

Ichabod took hold of Max's arm and gave it a shake. "What chance? What mustn't I do? What is going to happen?"

"Crane!" Abbie yanked him away violently.

Ichabod was forced to take a step back and when he did it was to see a Max starting to turn a strange, white-blue shade. The air around them became abruptly freezing as Max stiffened, eyes wide open in fear and pain. It was like the man was being frozen solid in front of their very eyes. Max went completely rigid as his whole body became like an ice statue made of flesh and bone. Ichabod and Abbie stared at the transformation in disbelief.

"What the hell was that?" squeaked Abbie in shock. "What just happened?"

Ichabod leaned forward a little, trying for a better look at this odd new phenomenon. "It appears our erstwhile Mr. Duncan has met an untimely end, rather unexpectedly." While Ichabod didn't meant to be hard-hearted, he could barely contain his ire at being cut off at such an important part of their conversation. Which, he supposed, had been the point of whoever perpetrated the man's demise.

"I get that," said Abbie in frustration. "What I want to know is how? He looks like he's been dropped into a vat of liquid nitrogen."

Ichabod didn't know what that was but Max's death certainly wasn't a result of natural causes, that could not be debated. "It seems someone did not wish Mr. Duncan to speak with us—" Ichabod didn't get to finish his sentence as suddenly there was a loud cracking noise and fissures abruptly started to appear all over Max's lifeless body. "Well, that doesn't look promising," noted Ichabod as he took a step backwards and holding out an instinctive hand to place Abbie behind him. Without any further warning, Max's body exploded into a million pieces and with a force that knocked both Ichabod and Abbie off their feet. Ichabod felt himself sailing through the air and landing several feet away on his back on the ground. Crystalline fragments of Max rained down upon him as he struggled to take hold of his senses again. The ground beneath him started to move.

"Crane, get off me! I can't breathe!"

Ichabod's eyes widened as he realized in his attempt to shield the Lieutenant from the exploding of Max Duncan, he had in fact landed on her. He quickly rolled to one side, freeing Abbie from beneath him.

She drew in a ragged breath, still looking shell-shocked. "You are so much heavier than you look," Abbie complained weakly, struggling to sit up.

"My apologies, Lieutenant," said Ichabod hastily, moving his hand to help her but then realizing it was covered in rapidly melting pieces of Max Duncan and withdrew it. In fact, he was covered in bits of flesh and bone, all down his coat and shoes. It was a fate Abbie was just realizing she shared.

She propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at her dress. "Oh my god, am I covered in body parts?" Abbie made a pained expression as she put a shaking hand to her head. "Oh God, please don't tell me he's in my hair."

Ichabod grimaced as he did indeed see pieces of bone and flesh sticking out of the Lieutenant's hair. "Ah… well…"

Abbie gave a loud groan and flopped back on the ground covering her face with her hands. "I've got the one link to that bible stuck in my hair, my dress is ruined—"

Ichabod made a face as he made a quick sweep of that outrageously priced garment. Her dress was indeed ruined, torn, covered in mud, blood and human flesh, this dress would not see another outing. Ichabod couldn't help but feel a little relieved by that fact but didn't volunteer such an opinion on the subject, suspecting it would not be well received.

"And my car—"

"Is in a nearby field," offered up Ichabod quickly.

Abbie dropped her hands away from her face and looked up at him in amazement. "It is?"

"I drove it here. Without it, I feared I would not make it in time."

"My car still goes?" asked Abbie hopefully, propping herself up on her elbows. "Wow, that's one thing at least."

"Ah, well, it only appeared to function in reverse," said Ichabod reluctantly, "but as it transpired, I seem to be a better driver going backwards than going forwards, so it was of little handicap at the time."

"My car only drives in reverse now?" asked a despondent Abbie.

"Not quite. Unfortunately your mechanical beast gave its life in the service of delivering me to you. Its innards exploded in quite an unsettling fashion."

Abbie rolled her eyes and sagged back on the ground. "Of course it did," she groaned. "Perfect, just perfect."

Sirens could be heard drifting their way through the night air. "It appears our plight has been conveyed to others and help is on its way." Ichabod wrinkled his nose. "Albeit a little tardily as it turns out." He looked down at Abbie who was just lying on the ground, eyes closed. Ichabod frowned. "Lieutenant, are you alright?" Suddenly the woman by his side looked tiny and fragile to him. From their first meeting, Ichabod had never seen her as such, despite her diminutive stature. There was a fierce determination to Miss Abigail Mills that was evident within a moment of speaking with her and it warned you to take her lightly at your own peril. The strength and size of her character could always hold its own against anyone or anything. But now, she looked broken, almost defeated.

_You're losing her already and you don't even know it. She's dying in front of your eyes but you can't see._

Unbidden, Duncan's words came back to Ichabod and felt his stomach tighten with anxiety. "Miss Mills?"

She sighed noisily. "I'm fine, Crane. Couldn't be better. You don't need to worry about me."

Ichabod wasn't as convinced of that. "When I approached you and Mr. Duncan—"

"I know," she interrupted him. "I was out of line. I shouldn't have done that. I guess I just snapped. I've never lost control like that before."

Ichabod looked carefully for his next words. "I am still uncertain what you hoped to achieve by such an assault."

"I was just looking for answers," Abbie said tightly. She pressed her lips together. "I just want one good day," said Abbie unevenly. "I want one day when everything doesn't go to hell."

"We both still draw breath, Lieutenant," said Ichabod quietly. "I count that as a very good day."

Abbie stared at him with hollow eyes. "I had him. I had Duncan right there but I couldn't get the information we needed out of him. I failed."

"You did not fail," said Ichabod firmly. "There is no doubt in my mind that Mr. Duncan would not have offered up any information to us, no matter the coercion or the incentive."

Abbie's gaze became intent. "But he said something to you, just before he exploded. What did he say?"

Ichabod hesitated, not sure if he should say anything. He needed more time to ponder the man's ominous meaning. "He said we must hold to one another," said Ichabod decisively. "That we are stronger together than apart and we must watch over each other with great care." His expression became more serious. "And that one should not leave the other behind to hurl themselves into great peril," he said with a note of censure.

Abbie's eyes narrowed. "He said that?"

"Perhaps that last part was an editorial on my behalf, but I believe his initial sentiment supports my thoughts on the subject."

"I saw a chance to do something and I took it. Don't even try and tell me that you wouldn't have tried to do the same thing if positions had been reversed."

"This is what I will tell you, Miss Mills, from now on, it is together, or not at all. We know our greatest strength when we are together. Apart, we only invite defeat." Ichabod could not accept that any harm would come to Abbie by his hand. It was an anathema to him. All he could presume was that the man was trying to unsettle him and make him question the undeniable bond the two of them shared. He would not allow that to happen, not while there was still breath in his body.

Abbie blinked. "Okay," she said quietly, "no more cowboy Abbie."

Ichabod looked at her in confusion.

"A cowboy is—"

"I know what a cow boy is, Lieutenant, they were the four troops of light dragoon and seven companies of infantry most recently led by Colonel James De Lancey of West Farm. They were recruited from among many of the finest families of Westchester County and New York and performed patrol duty throughout Westchester during the war."

Abbie's forehead wrinkled. "Why were they called cowboys?"

"Because they also would bring in cattle and other supplies to the British Army while they were entrenched in New York city."

"You don't say."

"But I don't quite understand your reference of being a cow boy, Lieutenant. They were well known for their organizational skills and strict discipline, in fact, other soldiers were sent to train with them to gain skills in these areas."

"I need to get you to watch a few John Wayne movies," said Abbie wryly. "Then you'll know what I'm talking about when I say the word cowboy."

"Is this what you two do with your free time, lie in a field and hold history lessons and cinema appreciation classes?"

Ichabod started at the sound of the other man's voice and he pulled his attention from Abbie to where Captain Irving was standing a few feet away, looking at them oddly. "Captain," he said in shock, scrambling to his feet, "we did not hear you approach." He reached out and helped Abbie to stand up too. It was then Ichabod noticed that the Captain wasn't alone. There was a barrage of emergency vehicles, police and ambulances, making their way over the field towards them, lights flashing, sirens blaring.

Irving arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, I opted for the silent and stealthy approach, so that's understandable," he said sarcastically.

Abbie looked a little flustered, tugging at her dress. "Sorry, sir, it's been a distracting night."

"I gathered. Sometimes you two are in your own little world." Irving shook his head at them. "I gotta say, I'm not convinced it's all that healthy." He walked closer and squinted at them before either could protest that statement. "What is that all over you two?"

Ichabod and Abbie exchanged unhappy looks before he responded. "Unfortunately it's Max Duncan."

"I'm not going to like this story, am I?" asked Irving in resignation.

"It would seem unlikely, sir," agreed Abbie ruefully. "But before we tell it, I really need to have a bath." She touched her hair gingerly. "A very, very long bath."

One of the CSI officers was by her side. Officer VanBurren shook his head at her. "Not before I collect every bit of our suspect off the both of you." He inclined his head at them. "I need your clothes."

"Of course you do," said Abbie flatly.

Ichabod put a protective hand up to his coat. "You want our clothing?"

"You'll get it back after we've scrapped all the dead guy out of it," said VanBurren casually. "May take a day or two."

"A day or two?" squawked Ichabod.

"Give the man your coat, Crane," Irving ordered him. "I've got some clothes in the trunk of my car which you can both wear."

"But—" Ichabod was already being bustled over to a square of white paper and made to stand on it as other CSI officers swarmed on him, pulling off his coat, shirt and shoes. Fortunately his coat had protected most of his trousers so he was allowed to keep them on. Abbie had been shepherded away to the other side of the CSI van for a little more privacy with her disrobement. Ichabod made several grunts of annoyance as the remainder of Max Duncan was picked from his hair by tweezer wielding officers.

"Okay, you're all done," announced VanBurren after what felt like an eternity of being pawed at.

"A small mercy," muttered Ichabod as he watched them bundle his coat, shirt and shoes into plastic bags.

"This way, Crane," called out Irving where he was standing by the trunk of his car.

Ichabod rubbed his bare arms to ward off the cold night air and walked briskly over to the Captain, taking the item of clothing the other man offered. Ichabod stared at the garment in his hands and then looked over at the Captain with a look of censure on his face.

"It was a gift from my daughter," said Irving unapologetically. "And I don't need to be gettin' attitude from the guy who wears stripper boots every day."

Ichabod's face wrinkled in generalized disapproval. "Is there nothing else that you can offer me?"

"I gave my other t-shirt to your partner because it was longer and she has more to cover."

The thought of a more covered Abbie brought Ichabod a small amount of relief. At least that was one blessing. Abbie then walked out from behind the van, wearing a grey men's t-shirt which came to just above her knees. Ichabod had forgotten the allure of a woman wearing a man's clothing and he pulled a face, this night felt never ending.

"Okay," she said flatly, "I've had enough fun for one night. Who's taking us home?"

"Can I expect a report on my desk tomorrow morning?" Irving asked.

"Tomorrow is Saturday," Abbie reminded him, "but yes."

"I've got a whole crew up at the big house pulling every bullet from the place."

Ichabod was reluctantly pulling on the garment supplied to him by the Captain. "They should prepare themselves for a long night then." He tugged down on the t-shirt. "Mr. Duncan was quite relentless in his wish to dispatch Miss Mills and I tonight."

"I can see that. Okay, we'll talk about this tomorrow. You two look like wrecks. Go home, get some sleep and we'll deal with this all with clear heads tomorrow." Irving waved his hand at a passing Deputy. "Carl will drive you both home."

Within minutes the two of them were within the back seat of a cruiser car, being driven home. "Will it really take a couple of days to secure our clothing back?" fretted Ichabod. He really didn't want to be without the familiarity of his attire for that long.

Abbie had her head propped up with her hand, elbow wedged against the back window glass as she watched the scenery go by. "You've got those clothes I bought you. You can just wear them for a day or two. It won't kill you."

"Clearly you have never attempted to fit yourself into the devil's trouser," muttered Ichabod. "A day or two entrenched in such constrictive clothing would be certain to do me a permanent mischief."

"They're called skinny jeans and no one ever died from wearing them," Abbie informed him, still intent on looking out the window.

"Mm," replied Ichabod, less than convinced. "At least the apparel waiting for me at the cabin is less of an abomination than my current attire." He pulled out the material of the hot pink t-shirt and read the inscription emblazoned across his chest in sparkling letters. "Who's your Daddy?" Ichabod shook his head. "Why would this article of clothing request such information of people on first meeting?"

"It's just a saying, Crane," said Abbie tiredly. "It's meant to be funny. Don't worry about it."

"The fashions of this time continue to perplex me. There is no logic to them."

"Yeah, you mentioned."

The rest of the ride home was spent in silence until they pulled up in front of Ichabod's cabin.

Carl twisted around in his seat. "I'm just going to check the place out, in case there is someone else looking to finish the job tonight. You two stay here."

"In this garish attire I suspect I have little to fear from any man or demon," grumbled Ichabod as the Deputy climbed out of the car and walked away, "because surely they will be too consumed with trying to pluck their eyes from their sockets to avoid beholding such a garb as this, granting me time to gain the upper hand."

"Ichabod?"

"Mm?" said Ichabod distractedly, scratching at the sparkling letters in an attempt to see what they were made of. He wondered how such material was applied to the shirt and made to stick so ferociously. A warm hand touched his knee. That got his attention, his head snapping around to see Abbie looking up at him with warm, loving eyes. "Ah, Miss Mills?" he said hesitantly.

Abbie just gave a languid smile and the next thing Ichabod knew, her hand had gone to his face, cupping it and drawing him into a heated kiss. Ichabod froze, hardly able to believe this was happening again. His hand went to grab her wrist, trying to break the kiss but then Abbie moved, straddling him in one fluid move. Ichabod made a strangled noise as he felt her thighs wrap themselves around him and then she was kissing him again. Panicked, Ichabod went to move her off him, his hands grabbing at her hips to try and remove Abbie from his person but she resisted, clinging more tightly to him instead. Ichabod's head was spinning from her kisses and the feel of her softness wrapped all around him. His heart pounded painfully in his chest as the confusion continued and he seemed unable to stop Abbie's overtures. Finally Ichabod grabbed at her arms, forcing Abbie back and breaking their kiss. "Stop," he panted. Ichabod shook his head at her. "We can't, this is madness."

Abbie just smiled knowingly and leant in closer, her lips against his ears. "I think the time for sanity has passed, my love." She pressed a warm kiss to his neck. "Don't you?" Abbie asked, lips brushing his neck. Ichabod couldn't help but close his eyes at the soft caress, hands tightening on her arms as his whole world tilted into chaos…


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N****: Hiya peeps, sorry it took me so long to get this chapter to you – been working all weekend. If someone would just pay me to write fan fiction then we wouldn't have these interruptions. LOL Ah, if wishes were horses, eh? ;) **

**Anyways, we've left Abbie and Ichabod making out in the backseat of that police car for quite awhile now, I guess we'd better see what's what hmm? :D **

**I had fun with this chapter, which usually means my readers don't enjoy it as much as I do (don't know what's up with that) but anyways, hope you enjoy…**

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Abbie walked out of the coffee shop and took a long drink of her coffee. It was her fifth this morning and it wasn't even ten o'clock yet. She'd woken up before the sun was even up and had just kept moving. Her whole body felt like she'd been repeatedly slammed against a brick wall. Mind you, she had been in a fist fight, thrown off her feet by an exploding suspect and landed on by a not exactly tiny partner last night. It was probably to be expected that she should feel like she just ran two marathons back to back. Abbie walked into the dry cleaners and forced a tired smile at the woman behind the counter. "Hi there, I dropped a coat and shirt off to you earlier this morning, asked for a rush job. I was just wondering how that was going?" Abbie had already been into work that day, filed her report on the activities of last night and harassed the lab workers to get through with Ichabod's coat and shirt in record time. She knew he'd be feeling more than a little lost without the familiarity of his old clothes and wanted to get them back to him. Abbie still felt badly about the way she'd acted last night and what she'd done to Max. She didn't like feeling this desperate.

"Oh, the vintage coat, yes, I remember," answered the woman. "It's very well made and quite unusual."

Abbie half-smiled. "Kinda like its owner. I was told it would take at least two hours. Any chance it's done yet?"

The woman made a regretful face. "I'm sorry, not quite. The coat in particular had some very deep and odd stains on it. It's taking us a little longer then we'd hope to remove them."

"As long as you can get them out," said Abbie, not eager to describe what it was exactly that the stains consisted of.

"It'll be about another hour," said the woman. "Is that alright?"

"Sure," said Abbie, knowing there wasn't much she could do about it. "Is it alright if I wait here?" She indicated the wooden bench by the door.

"Of course," said the woman easily, "we'll be as quick as we can."

Abbie sat down on the seat and took another sip of her coffee, going over the events of last night in her head. It was so frustrating that she hadn't managed to get any information from Duncan before he self-destructed. Abbie frowned, realizing how callous that sounded, even in her own head but she just needed to feel like she was getting somewhere with this whole 'end of the world' threat hanging over her head. It was one thing to know some kind of horrible Armageddon was coming, it was another to have the weight of being one of only two people who had a chance at stopping it. Abbie sighed heavily and set her cup of coffee down on the bench beside her and leaned back against the wall. Sometimes she missed how uncomplicated her life used to be.

"Excuse me."

Abbie blinked and looked at the woman behind the counter. "Yes?"

"Your items are ready."

"That was quick," said Abbie in surprise.

The woman frowned. "Oh well, not as quick as we'd first hoped, but it's done now." She held up the neatly plastic wrapped clothes. "Here they are."

Abbie stood up and took the offered items, moving to pay the woman. She took out her ATM card. "Guess you didn't need that extra hour after all."

The woman gave her a strange look as she swiped Abbie's card. "We did our best," she said a little defensively. "I'm sorry that it ended up being closer to two hours wait for you, but I assumed you were getting other things done when you left, so it wasn't such an inconvenience."

Abbie stared at her for that confusing statement. "What do you mean? I just got here." She glanced down at her watch and saw that it was now past midday. Abbie stared at her watch in disbelief. How was that possible? "Wait a minute, is that right, is it midday already?" She shook her arm, sure her watch was broken.

"Yes, we're closing soon," said the woman, completing the transaction and handing Abbie her receipt. "I hope you'll find the wait was worth it when you see the job we did with your clothes, particularly the coat. I swear, some of that grime looked like it'd been in there for centuries."

"I-ah-yes, thank you," stammered Abbie, still totally thrown by the time. She folded the clothes over her arm and headed back to the car she'd was loaning from the police car pool until she bought herself another vehicle. Abbie sat in the car for a long moment, trying to work out what had just happened. Did she seriously just lose two hours of her time? Abbie reached into her pocket and drew out her phone and saw she had six missed calls from Jenny. She quickly dialed her sister.

"Hello?"

"I've got all of these missed calls," said Abbie anxiously. "Is something wrong?"

"What's wrong is you weren't picking up," replied Jenny in exasperation. "I was beginning to worry. By the time I got up this morning you were already gone and then I couldn't get in contact with you. What's going on? What are you up to?"

"I-I was just picking up some dry cleaning," said Abbie unevenly.

"I rang your Captain and he said you were off to that hours ago. What took you so long?"

"Crane's clothes weren't ready yet. I had to wait."

"And while you were waiting you couldn't find the time to pick up the phone?"

Abbie swallowed hard. "I-I mustn't have heard it ring. I think I put it on silent accidentally."

"Yeah, well, your significant other isn't picking up either, so you might want to deal with that while you're at it."

"Don't call him that," said Abbie on reflex.

"He's an other and he's significant," Jenny said unrepentantly. "If ever that term applied to two people, it's you guys. Besides, you're picking up his dry cleaning, that's pretty domestic to me."

"He doesn't drive," said Abbie defensively.

"You mean he shouldn't drive."

Abbie wrinkled her nose, thinking of her car and Ichabod driving to her rescue in reverse. "There is that."

"Okay, look, I was just worried when I couldn't get in contact with either one of you. When you and Crane are together, bad things tend to follow."

Abbie opened her mouth to argue that statement but then closed it again. What was the point? Jenny was right.

"So, you're going over to Crane's now?"

Abbie looked at the coat and shirt laid out on the seat beside her. "Yes."

"Good, both of you can come back here. I spoke with Irving and he's coming too. I have some leads about that bible you're chasing down."

Abbie sat up straighter in her chair. "You do?" Jenny hadn't been there when Abbie had come home and Abbie had been too exhausted to do anything other than wash dead man bits out of her hair and collapse into bed. She was meant to be her sister's guardian. Abbie realized she needed to keep a closer eye on what Jenny got up to, for her own good.

"Yeah, but I don't want to talk about it over the phone. Just bring Crane back to your place and we'll all talk about it then."

Abbie had a million questions but she knew it was going to do her no good to press the point with Jenny. "Alright, I'm on my way to Crane's now. We won't be long."

"Bring some milk with you."

"I only bought a carton yesterday."

"Well, there is none left now and I didn't have any of it."

Abbie rolled her eyes, finding cohabitating with her sister again after all of these years a bit of a trial sometimes. She was used to having things a certain way and Jenny was disrupting that but then Abbie felt incredibly guilty for feeling that way. Jenny was her sister, she loved her and she wanted to be a part of her life again. Abbie just wished she'd stop drinking all of her milk though. Without milk there could be no coffee and that was an unacceptable thought. "Okay, I'll get more milk." She hung up and started the car. Abbie glanced at the fuel gauge as she pulled on her seatbelt and was surprised to notice it was sitting just above half-full. She frowned, reaching out and tapping on the plastic covering the gauge needle, wondering if it was stuck. Abbie had fuelled up the loaner car before taking it out this morning and now the tank was down about a third of gas. Great, she'd gotten some kind of lemon. At point was her luck going to change? Abbie pulled a face. Maybe she should be careful what she wished for, after all, luck could always get worse. It was a sobering thought as she pulled away from the curb, just wanting to pick up Ichabod and find out what Jenny knew about the Anima and getting them one step closer to winning this war.

#

Ichabod cleared his throat and squirmed a little nervously in his seat, staring straight ahead. He laid his hands palm down on the table top, spreading his fingers and steadying himself. "Miss Mills," he said gravely, "I wish to speak to you about a matter of some delicacy but it is a matter which I can delay no longer addressing after the events of last night." Ichabod took in an unsteady breath, trying to organize his chaotic thoughts. "It is understandable that in the heat of battle, emotions would run high. Indeed, last night was one full of strangeness which may have propelled our souls into actions which, under less trying circumstances, they would never consider." He felt himself rambling, so Ichabod tried to rein himself in. "My point being, Miss Mills, is that despite the circumstances that we might find ourselves periodically involved in, I remain a man tied by the bonds of matrimony to another woman. I love my wife and I have given her my word to be true and faithful to her while we both still draw breath and that is what I intend to do." Ichabod made a pained expression. "The-the familiarities that have passed between us in recent times are not something I am at liberty to pursue, no matter how pleasurable those—"

He stopped abruptly, frightened to finish that sentence or even that thought. Ichabod knew that it wasn't proper to dwell on the kisses of a woman other than his spouse, no matter how unexpectedly beguiling they may have been. "Not that I found them to be pleasurable, of course," he continued on hastily but then realized that might be offensive, so he tried to backtrack again. "Even though you are a very comely young woman who any man would-would—" Ichabod trailed off and then let out a loud groan, slumping forward in his seat and letting his head fall heavily on the wood table top. The dull clunk sound and ensuing pain from the action felt like a suitable penance for allowing such a predicament to overcome him. "Ow," he muttered unenthusiastically into the table top but remained in the slumped, defeated position. He'd been trying to rehearse what he was going to say to the Lieutenant when he saw her again and even in an empty room he couldn't do anything than make a bigger fool of himself than he already felt. "Stupid," Ichabod grunted, banging his head on the table again, "unforgivable", another bang on the head, "half-witted nincompoop". Miss Mill's overtures last night had caught Ichabod completely off-guard and he'd struggled to know what to do with the warm, writhing woman straddling him in the backseat of that police carriage. It was only the return of Officer Carl which had caused enough distraction for Ichabod to disentangle himself and run from the car into the safety of his cabin like Moloch himself was chasing him down. It hadn't exactly been a noble retreat and Ichabod had endure many hours since trying to work out what to do next, seeing as sleep was not something he'd been gifted with that night. What did she want from him?

_Make me feel alive again, Ichabod. I want you so much._

Ichabod gave an involuntary shudder as he remembered the words Abbie's hot breath had whispered in his ear, full of breathless desire, just before Carl had returned. This was a nightmare. In any other situation Ichabod would have immediately withdrawn himself from any chance of temptation and fled, just as the Good Book instructed all right and proper men to do so. However, he and Abbie were entwined by fate and the one thing Ichabod knew for sure that the only hope there was to defeat this pernicious evil flooding the land lay in them fighting side by side. It was something he was honored to do but he was uncertain if he could combat evil and burgeoning romantic feelings between them and the real truth of the matter is that Ichabod was afraid of where this might all end. He loved Katrina with all of his heart and he wouldn't ever willingly betray her, at least, that was the type of man he'd always seen himself as. However, with a beautiful, warm temptation standing by his side, day in and day out, Ichabod couldn't help but question how strong his resolve would remain? To falter in this matter would be a betrayal to the two most significant women in his life and it made Ichabod sick to think of being the one to cause either one pain or humiliation.

"_Hey, Crane, it's me." _

Ichabod started violently at the sound of the Lieutenant's voice in the room and sat bolt upright. He stared, wide-eyed at the machine which captured the voices of those calling him.

"_I'm on my way over, I should be there in five. By the way, your phone is off or you forgot to charge it again. You've got to get better at that. There is no point in having a phone if you don't have it on or charged, we may as well go back to carrier pigeon, I'm just saying." _

Abbie sounded so normal and Ichabod couldn't help but resent that just a little bit. How could the woman sound so calm when Ichabod felt like he was jumping out of his skin? It was maddening… another item to add to the list of things which were slowly unhinging him when it came to Lieutenant Abigail Mills. He needed more time to regroup. "Perhaps we should meet at a later point, Lieutenant? I think—"

"_Oh, and one other thing..."_

Ichabod grimaced at his forgetting that this device was not capable of a two-way conversation. Another annoyance.

"_I've got a surprise for you. Get ready to tell me how much you love me and can't live without me." _

Ichabod leapt to his feet, knocking over the chair he'd been sitting on in his haste. "That can never happen, madam!" he exclaimed loudly, forgetting once again in his agitation that Abbie couldn't hear him. The box of voices made a beeping noise and then went silent. Ichabod put an unsteady hand to his head and tried to quell the impulse to scream at the top of his lungs. Hysteria never added anything to a situation and Ichabod knew that cool heads had to prevail in this first meeting after the intimacies of last night. He bent down and picked up the chair, righting it and tucking it neatly under the table. Ichabod started to pace, trying to organize his thoughts once again. "Miss Mills," he mumbled under his breath, rehearsing another attempt at laying his cards out on the table, "we are in a fight for not only our lives but the lives of every soul on this planet. No account can be given to anything other than that and it is because of that pressing fact we must put aside any emotional ties between us and pursue the noble cause laid down to us by God and fate."

Ichabod blinked but didn't stop in his pacing. Actually, that wasn't so bad – clean, to the point, no mention of kissing and inappropriate touching. More memories of Abbie's soft hands sliding up under that ridiculous pink attire he'd been forced into wearing and finding their way to where his heart had been thundering in his chest. He'd of course moved to stop her, hands going to her wrists and stilling Abbie's wanderings but if Ichabod was being brutally honest with himself, he hadn't acted quite as quickly as he should have. The feeling of being touched again by a beautiful woman was an intoxicating one and something he'd gone without for centuries. Anyone watching would have thought his intervention had been immediate but in his heart of heart's Ichabod knew he'd hesitated for just the briefest of moments and that terrified him. "Miss Mills, we are in a fight for not only our lives but the lives of every soul on this planet," he rehearsed his mantra again. "No account can be given to anything other than that and it is because of that pressing fact we must put aside any emotional ties between us and pursue the noble cause laid down to us by God and fate."

Ichabod drew in a shaky breath. Yes, that was good. That would surely put the matter to rest and they could speak no more of it. Ichabod heard the approaching car engine and knew Abbie was almost with him. His stomach turned over anxiously and Ichabod couldn't help but marvel at the anxiety level he was currently sporting. He'd gone into battle, faced down demons and Death itself but Ichabod would have happily been facing down any of those things rather than Abbie Mills right then. How could he be more frightened of a five foot two woman rather than a headless, six foot five axe-wielding Death? As the question was rhetorical, Ichabod was much obliged he didn't have to work to find an answer for that. He clasped his hands behind his back and faced the door which he knew Abbie would entering presently. There was the sound of the car pulling up outside and Ichabod squared his shoulders. "Miss Mills, we are in a fight for not only our lives but the lives of every soul on this planet. No account can be given to anything other than that and it is because of that pressing fact we must put aside any emotional ties between us and pursue the noble cause laid down to us by God and fate." Ichabod gave a determined nod, happy that he had the words he wanted to say at his easy disposal. There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs up to the porch and then there was a quick rap on the door.

"Crane, it's me." The door handle turned.

Ichabod tensed, ready to deliver his speech. Abbie appeared in the doorway and smiled up at him. Panic gripped Ichabod. "Planet, account, God," he blurted out.

Abbie wrinkled her nose. "And a hearty chicken, watermelon, wheelbarrow to you too, Crane," she said wryly.

Ichabod wanted to curse aloud at the hash up he'd made of his speech, particularly with the way Abbie was now looking at him like he was insane. A not entirely spurious deduction on her behalf he had to reluctantly admit. Ichabod did indeed feel like he was losing his mental faculties at a rapid rate.

"It's not going to be one of those days, is it?" Abbie closed the door behind her and then stepped more fully into the room. Ichabod barely registered the long, black bag she had over one shoulder, his concerns were far more pressing.

Suddenly the cabin room, which had always seemed spacious to Ichabod, appeared to close in on around them. He took a step back. "I-ah-um-no, I don't expect, that is to say… I'm sorry, can you kindly repeat the question?" Ichabod was floundering badly and he tried to get himself back under control.

Abbie was frowning up at him. "Are you alright, Crane?" she asked in concern. "You look all flushed. You're not coming down with something, are you?" Abbie took a step towards him, hand outstretched as though to feel his forehead and Ichabod took an instinctive step back. There could be no more touching between them, of that he was certain. "I am well, Lieutenant," he said hastily, "and require no form of nurse maiding, I can assure you."

Abbie dropped her hand down to her side and looked confused. "Okay, I was just asking, keep your shirt on." She smiled. "On second thoughts, don't keep your shirt on. Here—" Abbie took another step towards him.

Ichabod took a couple of hasty step backwards, eyes widening in fear. Abbie stopped, her own eyes narrowing. She took another step forward, Ichabod immediately took one back. Abbie stepped forward again, Ichabod stepped back.

Abbie pursed her lips and looked him over. "Okay," she said flatly, "so, it's going to be one of those days after all." Abbie held out the bag she'd had slung over her shoulder at him. "I brought you your clothes. Just picked them up from the dry cleaners."

Ichabod eyed them warily, almost as if they were some kind of trap. As he never knew what would spur on the Lieutenant's romantic overtures these days, he couldn't help but be skittish. The first event had happened after a conversation about the many uses of a beaver and last night he'd been musing about the unsuitability of what passed for fashion in this era. Both times the moment hadn't seemed to be a precursor to any kind of intimacy between them but then he'd found himself the recipient of some very heated kisses. Ichabod was at a loss to read the moments between them anymore and couldn't help but be on edge.

"Gee, thanks for that, Abbie," said Abbie sarcastically as she was left holding out the clothes to Ichabod. "You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble. I don't know how I can ever repay you for getting my precious coat back to me so quickly."

"You wish me to repay you in some way for the return of my attire?" asked a stricken Ichabod, looking at the bag containing his coat longingly but holding much trepidation over what might be required of him in return.

"What is wrong with you?" asked Abbie in frustration. She tossed the bags at him. "I was just trying to do something nice for you. The way you're acting, you'd think he was about to make you walk the plank."

Ichabod caught the clothes neatly and gave her an uncertain look. "I-ah, um… of course I am most indebted to you for returning my clothes to me so swiftly, Lieutenant. I do not wish to seem ungracious."

"Can you not seem crazy?" she snapped at him. "How about that? Think you can manage that for a few minutes today, just for something different?"

Ichabod stiffened a little indignantly at her tone and inclined his head. "My apologies, Lieutenant." He couldn't help but feel a little put out that she was taking this tone with him when it was Abbie herself who had caused all of this befuddlement between them in the first place. Ichabod took vague umbrage that the Lieutenant should be the cause of his discombobulated state, only to turn around and find it a source of ire. Women, there really was no understanding them.

"Just get dressed, I'll wait for you in the car. Jenny's got something to tell us about the Anima bible. We're meeting her back at my place."

Ichabod was relieved to know that they weren't going to be alone. "Miss Jenny has information about the Anima? How?"

"Don't know," said Abbie shortly, "but if you get dressed already, we can go and find out." She turned around and headed out the door after a final look of annoyance in his direction.

Ichabod was left holding his clothes in their bags and wondering how he'd managed to cock things up quite so badly. He'd had his speech and everything. What good was an eidetic memory if it failed you when you needed it most? Now the Lieutenant was irked at him, as he was with her and the threat of another burst of inappropriateness still loomed large over their every discourse. It was infuriating. "Very well," he ground out to the empty room, "there is to be no more muddlement between us, Lieutenant. I will make my feelings known on this estrangement between us and I will do so with as much alacrity and clarity as I can summon." Ichabod gave a defiant nod of his head at the decision he'd come to. This day would not end without them both coming to an understanding.

_Bbbeeeeeepppp!_

Ichabod pulled a face as the sound of the mechanical beast's call rang out throughout the woods and cabin, signaling the Lieutenant's impatience with her waiting. Ichabod hastily disrobed, slipping into the familiarity of his own shirt and pulling on his coat. Feeling infinitely more like himself, Ichabod strode out of the cabin, determined to make his feelings known, no matter the consequences…

**A/N****: Okay guys, so, next chapter, it's all going to go down. LOL How do you think it'll go? Will the air get cleared and everyone will know what is going on after the next chapter… or is it only going to get worse? Guess you'll have to come back for the next chapter to find out. I will give you one clue though… if I had to describe the next chapter in one word, it's be… fireworks. Make of that what you will. ;) **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N****: Hello all, me again. :D **

**Not much reaction to the last chapter, so I'm not sure how peeps felt about it which makes me slightly nervous about this chapter. The scene in this chapter was one I first envisaged when I thought about this fic and there always feels like a lot of pressure on those chapters when it comes time to realizing them. I really don't know if it works or not, I guess that's up to you to decide for yourself but I will say that this chapter signals a change in the story going forward, so, I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing from your POV. Lol I guess time will tell. **

**Anyways, thank you to everyone for hanging in there with this story, I really do appreciate it. And now, let's get this show on the road hmm…? **

**CHAPTER** **TWELVE**

Abbie made an annoyed face as she was forced to park further down her street then she would have liked. "The parking around this place is getting terrible," she grumbled, climbing out the car. Ichabod followed suite, climbing out of the passenger seat and opening the back door of the car to collect the brown paper bag which contained milk, bread and some more coffee. Abbie figured while she was at the shops getting milk, she'd make sure they didn't run out of the one thing keeping her putting one foot in front of the other these days. Having her life put in danger every single day was one thing, doing it without a healthy amount of caffeine pumping through her veins was another thing entirely. It wasn't the end of the world yet.

Ichabod tucked the groceries under his arm and fell into step beside her as they walked the block to her apartment, but not before he unobtrusively moved to her other side. Abbie eyed him curiously, having noticed he always did that when they were walking together down the sidewalk. Ichabod would always make sure he was on the side nearest to the road when they walked together. "How come you always do that?"

Ichabod looked a little caught off-guard as he turned to look at her, neither one breaking stride. "I'm sorry?"

"The always walking closest to the road thing." Abbie half-smiled. "You don't have some OCD thing I should know about, do you?"

Ichabod frowned. "I am unfamiliar with this OCD of which you speak."

"Obsessive compulsive disorder," supplied Abbie. "Like when you have to wash your hands twenty times before each meal or all of your ornaments have to line up a certain way otherwise you go into meltdown."

"I do not believe I have such an issue," said Ichabod a little stiffly.

"Okay, then why the street thing?"

"It is but a common courtesy," explained Ichabod. "A gentleman must always walk on the side closest to the street when in the company of a lady."

Abbie made a confused face. "Why?"

"To shield her from any splashes of water and mud from passing carriages and indeed, protect her from any runaway horses drawing such carriages."

"You don't say," said Abbie slowly.

Ichabod gave her a sideways look. "You take issue with the custom, Lieutenant?"

"No, not really. I guess it's kind of sweet even if I'm not sure it translates today. A horse is one thing, but if you've got an out of control hummer bearing down on you, there isn't much shielding to be done."

"An out of control hummer?" repeated Ichabod uncertainly. "What manner of beast is that?"

"A big-ass, 'I've got something I need to compensate for', car."

"It sounds delightful," said Ichabod flatly, the expression on his face suggesting exactly the opposite.

Abbie sighed internally as they walked up the stairs to her building. Ichabod had been very quiet in the car and she hated the thought her bad mood was rubbing off on him. Abbie pressed the button to the elevator. "Look, Crane, I just wanted to apologize for before. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm not quite myself these days for some reason."

Ichabod was looking at her intently. "On that matter, Lieutenant, I have something extremely pressing I must discuss with you. About last night—"

Abbie sighed loudly. "I know, things got out of hand. I went a little crazy and I'm sorry for that." The elevator arrived, the doors sliding open and she stepped inside. Abbie turned around and looked expectantly at the suddenly hesitating Ichabod. "Are you getting in or what?"

"Ah, yes, of course," he said unevenly and stepped into the elevator, standing as far away from her as possible in the small space.

Abbie looked at the distance between them and scowled. "I'm not sure what else you want me to say, Crane. What happened, happened. I can't take it back."

Ichabod was staring at her again. "But you wish to?" he asked sharply.

Abbie thought about last night and her attempts to get the truth from Max. She'd given it her all and the reality was, she'd do it again if there meant there was even the smallest chance to take out Moloch and his minions. "No," she confessed, "I'd do it again in a heartbeat if given the chance."

Ichabod's eyes went wide and he looked a little stricken. "Miss Mills, you can't say such things. It is completely unacceptable, you have to see that."

Abbie made a frustrated noise. "Haven't you ever been desperate for something, Crane? Willing to do anything to get what you want, hell, what you need more than anything?" Even though they'd only found out about the existence of the Anima not even two days ago, it was all Abbie could think about. She needed to have this chance at hope.

Ichabod took a hasty step backwards and bumped up against the wall. He shook his head at her. "Absolutely not!"

Abbie cocked her head at him, unconvinced. "So, you're telling me that you've never wanted something so badly you don't care what you have to do to get it." She took a step closer, hands on hips. "I've seen you lose control before, Crane. Don't pretend I'm the only one sitting down at the crazy table here."

Ichabod held up a dissuading hand. "It was merely that I was caught off-guard by your advances," he spluttered. "I can assure you, I was in no danger of losing my composure." Ichabod pulled a face. "Alright, perhaps my composure was somewhat unbalanced, given the circumstances but be assured, Miss Mills, it may never happen again."

Abbie stared at him blankly. _What the hell was he going on about now?_ "What are you talking about? What advances? What can't happen again?"

The elevator door had opened at her level and Ichabod practically bolted from the elevator. Abbie followed him out. "Crane, answer me. What are you talking about?"

Ichabod was swiftly striding towards her apartment door and just managed to turn his head to address her. "I am, of course, flattered by your attentions, Lieutenant, but I am in no way in a position to reciprocate them on any level."

"Attentions? Reciprocate?" Abbie shook her head at a loss. "Is any of this meant to be making sense to me?" She headed down the corridor after Ichabod. He was standing at the door, looking a little like a cornered rat at having to wait for her to unlock the door for them to enter. Abbie distractedly pulled out her keys to unlock her apartment door.

Ichabod lowered his voice, looking around a little nervously. "I am, of course, referring to the exchange of intimacies we have recently shared, Lieutenant."

Abbie squinted up at him, trying to figure this out. "Are you talking about me picking up your dry cleaning? Because trust me, Crane, in this day and age, that ain't intimacy."

Ichabod made an impatient sound. "You know full well that is not what I speak of when I say intimacies."

"Okay then, I'm going to need to buy a vowel here," said Abbie in irritation, "because I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Ichabod made a stressed hand gesture. "I'm talking about the familiarities that have passed between us in recent times."

"I swear to God that I'm going to take out my gun and shoot you if you don't start making sense in the next five seconds," snapped Abbie.

"The kisses," bit out Ichabod a little too loudly and then dropped his voice again, face lined with anxiety, "the kisses and the roaming hands and the talk of needing me in a way other than, well, other than a way a married man should be needed by anyone other than his wife," trailed off Ichabod, looking very uncomfortable now.

The blood had drained from Abbie's face as Ichabod had been talking and now it returned in a blush which she only prayed her darker skin would hide from him. "Have you gone insane?" she hissed at him, torn between outrage, disbelief and complete and utter embarrassment.

Ichabod drew back, looking a little stunned. "It is not I who has admitted to taking leave of her senses in recent times, madam," he said tightly. "Indeed, I believe that particular confession to still be fresh on your lips."

Ichabod's gaze dropped to her lips and Abbie was immediately freaked out, not sure what to think so she just reacted instead. She drew back her hand and slapped Ichabod as hard as she could across the face, catching him completely off-guard.

#

Jenny poured the green tea out into two mugs and then handed one to the man sitting on the sofa before taking a seat beside him. "Sorry, we've only got tea until Abbie gets back with the milk," she apologized.

Frank Irving smiled as he accepted the mug. "It's fine. I should cut down on my coffee intake anyways and besides, green tea is meant to be great for you."

"I heard it's fantastic for your prostate," said Jenny, straight-faced, "and it must be true because I drink it all the time and I've never had a lick of trouble with mine."

Irving's lips quirked. "Well, that's quite the recommendation." He took a sip of the beverage and then eyed her with interest. "So, are you going to spill on what you've found out about this bible?"

"Let's wait until the two Witnesses get here," she said easily. "I don't feel like repeating myself."

Irving nodded. "Fair enough." He looked around the apartment. "How's it been living with your sister again after all of these years?"

"It has its moments," said Jenny wryly. They both started as the front door was slammed opened. They turned in their seats to see Abbie storm into the apartment, attempting to slam the door behind her but Ichabod stuck out a foot to prevent the door from closing violently in his face.

"That was completely uncalled for," he complained to her loudly, striding into the room after her, a grocery bag in one hand and rubbing a decidedly reddened cheek with the other. "My God, woman, you hit as well as any prized pugilist I've known."

"Is this one of these moments?" Irving whispered to her as Abbie and Ichabod didn't even seem to register their presence, clearly in the middle of some kind of throw down.

"Looks like," said Jenny slowly, taking in the pink flush to her sister's cheek and the way she was looking decidedly flustered. _Okay, what was this?_

"You're lucky I didn't shoot you for saying all those lies!" Abbie snapped at him.

Ichabod stiffened with indignation. "Lies?" he repeated in outrage. "I can assure you I have spoken no lies to you, Lieutenant."

"Then you're just plain crazy!" she spat back at him. "Like I'd ever consider kissing you!"

Jenny's eyes went wide. _Kissing_?

"Oh no," groaned Irving beside her.

"You did a little more than consider it," said Ichabod indignantly. "Indeed, I was left in little doubt as to what it was you were thinking on both occasions."

"Stop saying that! I did not kiss you!"

"You most certainly did!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Did not!"

"Then perhaps I imagined your tongue looking to take up residence in my mouth then!" shouted back Ichabod as their argument escalated.

Abbie drew in a horrified breath and her hands snapped out and shoved Ichabod so violently in the chest he was forced to take a step back from the unexpected ferocity of the attack. "You shut your mouth!" she screamed at him.

"I think that's our cue," noted Irving, quickly standing up. "Okay you two, both of you take a deep breath and return to your corners."

Abbie seemed to see them for the first time and Jenny didn't think she'd ever seen her sister looking so worked up.

Abbie jabbed a finger at Ichabod. "Don't listen to him! He's insane!"

Ichabod was still rubbing his chest a little dazedly. "And you, madam, have an entirely disproportionate upper body strength in relation to your stature."

"You leave my stature out of this!" snapped Abbie. She swung around to face Jenny and Irving. "Crane has gone insane. I think we should lock him up until we find out what's wrong with him," she declared emphatically.

"What is wrong with me is that I am being periodically assaulted by unsolicited overtures of a romantic ilk from a woman who now declares to know nothing of said propositions," said Ichabod heatedly.

Abbie jerked around to glare up at him. "That's because they didn't happen! How is it my problem that you can't tell your weird fantasies from real life?"

"I am not the one being swept away with flights of inappropriate fancy!"

Jenny held up a placating hand. "Okay, let's do as the Captain says and everyone take a deep breath and just calm down before someone ends up saying something they shouldn't here." She eyed Abbie warily. Her sister looked fit to burst. It was a weird situation to be the rational one when it came to Abbie, usually it was Jenny losing control and shouting but Abbie was definitely the one letting lose this time.

"Stop saying that!" yelled Abbie. "It didn't happen, Crane! I didn't kiss you!"

"Then why can I still taste you!" he shouted back.

"Like that," said Jenny, wrinkling her nose, "that would be an example of something that probably shouldn't have been said."

Abbie was so angry she was actually spluttering to get her words out. "Why would I kiss a guy who's been dead for nearly three hundred years?" she bellowed back at Ichabod. "It's practically necrophilia!"

"Or that," mused Jenny dryly, "another great example of things which we probably shouldn't be screeching at one another in a confined space."

"Necrophilia?" gasped Ichabod.

Irving went to explain. "It means—"

Ichabod held up an imperious finger to Irving, while still maintaining angry eye contact with an unrepentant Abbie, her arms folded in front of her chest. "I know what the word means, Captain," he ground out. "My grasp of Latin is most assuredly better than anyone elses in this room and indeed, I am growing incredibly weary of being treated as either a child or an imbecile. I was born in another century, I am not mentally deficient but clearly I am seen as lacking if you view me in such a way to refer to our interactions as anywhere within the realms of the deplorable act of necrophilia."

Jenny could see Ichabod was actually very wounded by Abbie's words and she couldn't say she exactly blamed the guy. That was a pretty harsh thing to say and she could also see Abbie was now feeling badly about them but didn't know how to take them back.

"And how do you think I feel?" Abbie threw back at him. "I tell you about Edward and now you're making out like I'm some kind of whore who can't control herself around married men!"

Irving leaned in closer to Jenny. "Backstory?" he quizzed her quietly to one side.

Jenny gave him the abridged version. "College professor, total bastard, lied to her about being married."

Irving nodded. "Got it."

"That is not what I'm saying!" said a distressed Ichabod.

"That's exactly what you're saying!" said Abbie bitterly. "I'm just some man-hungry tramp who's looking to jump anyone's bones as long as they're married! I don't know why you'd make up something like that!"

"Because I didn't make it up!" said Ichabod roundly. "My bones were most assuredly jumped." He hesitated and looked at Irving for conformation. "Did I use that expression correctly?"

Irving pursed his lips. "Yes, but not that wisely, if you're looking for my opinion on the matter but I guess you wouldn't be because it's not like you took my advice to keep this kissing business to yourself or anything."

Abbie sucked in a horrified breath. "You told my boss about me kissing you?" she squeaked.

"I was looking for some counsel on the matter," explained Ichabod swiftly. "I wanted to do the right thing."

"If you're looking for some advice on what the right thing do now, then let me help you out!" Abbie shouted at him. "Drop dead… _again_!" With that Abbie stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door so hard after her the hinges actually rattled.

Jenny flinched at the force of her sister's exit. She looked up at Ichabod. "Smooth, Crane, real smooth."

Ichabod opened his mouth and looked to be about to defend himself when Abbie abruptly reappeared. "This is _my_ apartment," she raged, stomping up to Ichabod and grabbing his arm. "_You_ get out!" Abbie shoved him roughly towards the door, pushing him out into the corridor before slamming the door shut once again with the same amount of wood shuddering force. There was a short knock on the door and Abbie wrenched open the door, her eyes spitting fire. Ichabod wordlessly handed her the bag of groceries he was still holding and she grabbed them from him before slamming the door shut again. "And that doesn't count as the last word!" she yelled at him through the door. "_This_ is the last word – bite me!"

"That's two words," came Ichabod's answer through the door.

Irving rolled his eyes. "Doesn't the guy have any sense of self-preservation whatsoever?"

Abbie kicked the door. "Shut up!"

"Also two words," offered up Ichabod sweetly from the other side of the door.

"Oh!" Abbie gave the door another kick and then stalked off to her room, shoving the bag of groceries at Jenny as she went by.

"Okay," said Jenny slowly, "that was quite the show."

Irving shook his head. "This is unbelievable. We're in the middle of trying to prevent the Apocalypse and those two are–are–, hell I have no idea what those two are."

"I don't think they do either which is half the problem," noted Jenny wryly. "I've never seen anyone get under Abbie's skin like that before, not even that ass Edward and he broke her heart."

"Alright, I guess we'd better divide and conquer these two idiots," said Irving in resignation. "You take Diane and I'll take Sam."

Jenny's lips quirked. "Wow, a Cheers reference, that's pretty old school."

Irving shrugged. "You knew who I was talking about."

"Only because I'm an insomniac who's up all night watching reruns on TV, you got lucky."

"Alright then, I'll take Ross, you take Rachel. Is that current enough for you?"

"That show ended nearly ten years ago."

Irving arched an eyebrow. "Are you and I going to have a problem now?"

"No, I'm just stalling, giving Abbie some time to cool down," said Jenny matter-of-factly. "The girl carries a gun, you know."

"This is not how I expected I'd be spending my Saturday," grumbled Irving.

Jenny shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's a bit of curve ball, I'll give you that." She tilted her head and looked up at him. "What do you think is going on with those two? I mean, it's not like Crane is big on the lying but I know my sister and she wasn't acting just then. She really doesn't think she's made out with the guy. Something isn't right here."

"What isn't right is that I'm spending my time being camp counsellor at Lake Whackadoodle's summer camp for Wayward Witnesses." Irving made a disgruntled noise. "I'm the Captain of police in this town, this is not in my job description."

"A lot of things weren't in your job description but now they are," said Jenny flatly. She inclined her head. "You go deal with your mess and I'll handle mine and then we'll meet up again and come up with some kind of plan to find that bible."

"Why do I just have this overwhelming urge to ground them both and send them to their room with no supper?" muttered Irving as he headed towards the door.

"Let's call that plan B," said Jenny as she watched him leave and appreciating the fact that someone finally closed the door quietly after they left. She blew out a long breath and eyed Abbie's resolutely closed door warily, knowing her sister wasn't going to be in the best of moods right then. "Right," said Jenny resolutely, making her way to Abbie's room, "no guts no glory." She knocked on the door and didn't wait for an invitation, just walked into the lion's den, bracing herself accordingly…


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N****: Thank you all for the lovely reviews I received for the last chapter. I'm thrilled folks enjoyed it. It was a real shot in the arm for me to keep going with this fic, so thank you for that and this chapter is extra long because of it. :D Now, this chapter is decidedly more angsty but I hope you'll still enjoy. **

**Just as a by the by, my intent for writing this story in regards to Ichabod and Abbie's relationship is not to turn theirs into a romance overnight. Indeed, I'm just looking to deepen the level of that relationship. To me, there are all kinds of romances out there and I do see a kind of romance to their relationship right now, without it actually being romantic per se… if that makes any sense. I adored Mulder and Scully and their vibe of two people who were partners in every way and who loved each other deeply but romance didn't typify their relationship. That's how I see Ichabod and Abbie right now. I don't know if down the line the writers intend to build on the innate chemistry of TM and NB at some point but I don't believe they'll do it at the expense of the Ichabod/Katrina s/l, which is how it should be. **

**Anyways, from my POV, I hope this fic works for shippers and non-shippers of Ichabbie alike – those who want them to remain as firm friends and partners and for those who want something more for them. It's a fine line to walk but one I'm having fun playing around with. **

**Also, almost forgot – I've been trying to teach myself how to fan vid in amongst my writing and had a crack at a Sleepy Hollow fan video, my first fan vid. It's not that brilliant – I had so many ideas but lacked the skill to bring it to life but if you want to check it out, just go to YouTube and put in 'Sleepy Hollow – This is War'. I'm just trying to practice my skills with the editing and hopefully get better. I'm looking at making a trailer for this story as well, got a few ideas, so I'll see how I go with that. **

**So, thank you as always for reading (and watching if you end up going to YT) and I guess I'll see you in the next chapter. **

**Cheers. :D **

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Ichabod paced up and down the alleyway, hands clasped behind his back, going over and over in his head what had just happened. He was still at a loss to even understand what had actually occurred. Everything had escalated so quickly that his head was still spinning.

"There you are."

Ichabod swung around to see the Captain standing in the entrance to the alleyway. He couldn't help but look past him to see if he was alone.

"It's just me," Irving advised him. He stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled towards Ichabod. "Just out of curiosity, which part of 'don't say anything' had you confused?"

Ichabod's jaw hardened. "I had to bring the matter to the fore between us," he said in agitation. "After last night, my hand was forced."

"And what exactly happened last night?"

"There was a repeat of the kisses and-and some other physicalities I do not feel at liberty to discuss," said Ichabod uncomfortably.

"Really, because after that 'I can still taste you' burst of oversharing I figured you didn't really have too many boundaries in that area anymore," commented Irving wryly.

Hearing his own words spoken back to him broke through Ichabod's haze of anger and frustration. Had he really made such a declaration to all and sundry to hear? Ichabod groaned and slumped back against at brick wall behind him. It caused him actual physical pain to be reminded of his behavior upstairs in the Lieutenant's apartment. He'd never lost control of his wits so utterly before. "I don't know what happened," said Ichabod weakly. "One moment we spoke of manners and courtesies and the next I am behaving in the most ungentlemanly way possible." He swallowed hard. "I have never addressed a woman with such unabridged vulgarity before in my life. I am deeply ashamed of my indiscrete conduct with this situation."

Irving gave a little shrug. "It was a fight. Things get said, it happens."

"I have never fought thusly with a woman before," said Ichabod in distress. He still couldn't believe he'd said half the things he had. What was wrong with him?

"Really?" asked Irving in surprise. "You're a married man, Crane. You telling me you and Katrina never threw down over things back in the day."

Ichabod scowled at him. "No, we never 'threw down' as you put it. If there was any discord between Katrina and myself we discussed it until we reached one mind on the matter. It is unseemly of a man to raise his voice to a woman, no matter the circumstances. One simply does not engage in a verbal altercation with a lady, it is most indecorous and it is something I have never done in my life."

"Yeah, well, in case one is wondering, one has now," said Irving dryly. "That was a hell of a domestic up there."

Ichabod leant over and rested his hands on his knees, feeling sick with regret. He squeezed his eyes closed. "I have handled this most inappropriately," he lamented. "I did not wish to cause the Lieutenant any distress."

"That particular bullet may have gone a little wide of its mark." Irving came to stand beside him, leaning up against the wall as Ichabod remained bent over. "Would you like some advice?"

"Yes," sighed Ichabod, not having the first idea what he should next.

"I think we just need to look at this whole situation rationally and calmly and try and work out what is exactly happening here."

Ichabod grunted. "I am losing my mind, that is what is happening, and every sense of decorum and propriety along with it."

"Okay, sucks to be you, we all get it but let's just deal with the facts, hmm?"

Ichabod opened his eyes and stared unseeingly at a crack in the concrete in front of him. "Do you believe that is truly how the Lieutenant sees me?" he asked hollowly. "As nothing more than a reanimated corpse, someone wholly incomplete within himself?" The question had been burning inside of him since Abbie's necrophilia comments had cut him to the quick. It was a hard and unwelcome undertaking to imagine the person he relied on most in this world should see him thusly. Ichabod held little stock in the esteem of others as a rule but with Abbie it was different. It was only when she'd yelled those words at him that Ichabod had truly realized how much he required her to think well of him, not just as a fellow Witness on this journey but as a man in general. This startling revelation had only added to his confusion and chagrin within the moment.

"I think you both said things which you are regretting now," replied Irving, "and for the record, I sure as hell regret hearing all of that."

Ichabod slowly straightened up and leaned his head back on the wall behind him, suddenly feeling exhausted. "I don't understand what is happening," he said unevenly. "Why would Miss Mills deny the exchanges between us?"

"Okay, finally a sensible question. Let's take this step by step and go through the possible options here." Irving counted out his points on his fingers. "One, you're lying."

Ichabod straightened up and scowled fiercely at the other man. "I take the greatest possible umbrage at even the suggestion," he said hotly. "To what end would I make up such lascivious accusations?"

"So, not lying then," said Irving drolly. "Fine, two, what you think happen didn't really happen."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you were dreaming or something."

"I was most decidedly awake, Captain," said Ichabod tightly. "In fact sleep eluded me for a torturous length of time post the encounters because of—"

Irving held up a hand. "I don't need you to paint me a picture, Crane. I get the idea. Moving on, three, Abbie is lying."

Ichabod made a pained expression. "Miss Mills seemed most sincere in her denial of our liaisons. I do not believe her to be untruthful in nature and would hesitate to make such an assumption."

"For what it's worth, my gut says that her protestations of ignorance wasn't an act either," agreed Irving. "In my job people lie to you all the time but her denials rang true."

Ichabod absently rubbed his chest where he could still feel the surprising might of those small hands bruising his flesh. "Painfully so."

"Then, four, she was asleep or dreaming or something."

A thought suddenly occurred to Ichabod. He pushed himself away from the wall, feeling a flood of relief wash through his body at a possible answer to all of this strangeness. "Perhaps the Lieutenant has been possessed by a malignant force?" he offered up eagerly. "Mayhap a demon or some other entity has taken possession of her?"

Irving arched an eyebrow at him. "A word to the wise, Crane. If you're going to float that particular idea by Abbie any time soon, try and sound a little less excited about the prospect of her being demon possessed."

Ichabod grimaced, understanding the man's point. "That was not my intent to sound pleased by the possibility but you agree it could be something which would explain her odd behavior of late?"

"It could," said Irving slowly, "but what kind of demon is all about sticking its tongue down your throat? What's the end game here?"

Ichabod's mind raced furiously. "There are the legends of succubae and incubi, demons who involve their victims in sexual encounters for their own malignant purposes, usually to spawn demon progeny."

"I've heard of a succubus," said Irving. "A woman who comes to you in your dreams and tries to sex you up but what's an incubus?"

"The male equivalent." Ichabod's brow furrowed, deep in thought. "But traditionally while succubae take human form, they are not known to borrow an actual human body to perform their enticements." He rubbed his forehead, trying to think. "Perhaps this is another demon with similar intent but slightly different means." Ichabod pushed away from the wall and face Irving with renewed determination. "If this is the case then the Lieutenant is in great danger," he said anxiously. "I must speak with her immediately on this matter." Ichabod went to brush past Irving, needing to reassure himself he was doing all in his power to prevent any further harm coming to Abbie if his suspicions were correct. Human vessels in these kinds of cases rarely profited from such invasions.

Irving caught his arm and swung him around. "Hold up there," he cautioned Ichabod, "let's not get ahead of ourselves here."

Ichabod scowled at him. "Do you not understand the pressing nature of this development?" he asked in agitation. "The Lieutenant's life may well be in danger."

"And yours definitely will be if you go up there with some half, or any other degree of cocked, theory."

Ichabod opened his mouth to argue the point but Irving was speaking again.

"Look, there are two things I know about women, Crane. One, there is no right answer to 'does my butt look big in this' and two, women hate it when a guy accuses them of being possessed by a nymphomaniac demon without proof."

Ichabod hesitated. "But it explains so much, surely it must be the truth of the matter?" He wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it before and cursed himself for his shortsightedness which could well have terrible repercussions for Abbie, the one person he was intent on protecting in all of this. The encounters had left him suitably disorientated and struggling but it still didn't feel like an adequate excuse.

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't but I do know that throwing wild theories around isn't going to help the situation. I think we need to try and work out what it is exactly we're dealing with here before we go any further. I say you go and hit the books and work out if there really is a demon out there which fits the bill for what could be happening to Abbie. You find a demon, then we've got something to work to figure out how to fix this. Just going up there and accusing the woman of being demon possessed isn't going to solve anything and possibly just get you shot."

Ichabod hesitated, wanting nothing more than to make peace between himself and the Lieutenant but Irving's words of caution did ring true to him. "I do not wish to leave things between us in such an unhappy state," he said unevenly. "Miss Mills should know my regret at speaking in such an indiscrete fashion to her."

"I don't think Miss Mills wants to hear from you right now," said Irving wisely. "I saw the look in that woman's eye – she's a special kind of mad. The kind of mad which needs a little breathing space and the removal of all sharp instruments before you talk to her again."

Ichabod's shoulders slumped as he remembered the unmitigated outrage in Abbie's eyes as she'd thrown him out of her apartment. Irving was right, that was a singular kind of anger and one Ichabod felt fresh regret at causing. But then, he'd never been incensed into such a state himself. "We both spurred each other into a kind of madness," agreed Ichabod dejectedly.

"You certainly know how to push each other's buttons," said Irving philosophically. "No argument here."

Ichabod's eyes narrowed. "Push each other's buttons?" He looked down at the buttons on his coat, trying to work out the meaning of yet another turn of phrase from this century.

"Yeah, you know, when you push the buttons on a phone or an ATM or a computer – something happens and it's the same with people. There are some people in the world who just know how to push our metaphorical buttons and cause a reaction, good, bad and everything in between." He gave Ichabod a knowing look. "After that little display, it's pretty obvious you two have some major buttons going on between you."

"I do not believe myself to be an enthusiast of said buttons," said Ichabod morosely. "Not if it causes me to behave in such a crass and reckless manner."

"It is what it is, Crane. Everyone has those people in their lives who get under their skin in a way that drives you crazy." Irving's lips quirked. "And it's usually family."

"The Lieutenant is my family," said Ichabod quietly. "I have no one else in this world save her. We are bound together through a fate which would see us belong to one another against a world in chaos." He looked away, overcome with the grief of so much loss. "And I have taken that bond and smashed it to smithereens, never to be repaired."

"Easy back on the 'woe is me' pedal, drama queen," Irving advised him with a roll of his eyes.

"Drama queen?" repeated Ichabod with no little amount of affront.

"If the tiara fits," said an unrepentant Irving. "Look, everyone just needs to take a breath. You hit the books and try and find out if there is a demon out there that could explain all of this and we'll let Abbie cool off a bit and then we'll see where we're all at. This is just a speed bump, not a seven lane pile up. You and Abbie will work this out."

"And if the Lieutenant never wants to speak to or see me again?" asked Ichabod stiffly. The thought was of real concern to him.

"She doesn't get that option," said Irving flatly. "Neither of you do. For better or worse, you two are stuck with being in this together and seeing as the fate of the world rests on your combined shoulders, I'm going to be here to make sure you both get your shit together sooner rather than later." He sent Ichabod a pointed look. "You get what I'm saying here, Crane?"

Ichabod made a vaguely put out face. "Well enough, Captain, even though I'm sure the same message could have been conveyed with less reference to bodily functions."

"As long as you get my point." Irving inclined his head at Ichabod. "Now, I'll drive you back to your cabin, you do that book thing you seem to love so much and then we'll regroup once you've found something or are certain there is nothing to find."

"Very well," agreed Ichabod reluctantly, even as he cast an uncertain look back up at the building beside him. He couldn't help but wonder what state the Lieutenant was in right then. As he followed Irving to his car, Ichabod could only pray she was in a better frame of mind then him… although that seemed hard to imagine.

#

Abbie stomped around her room, upturning the contents on her dresser table in an angry search for a hair tie. She knocked brushes and lipsticks onto the floor, uncaring of the mess she was causing. Abbie just needed to do something with her hands which didn't involve chasing down Ichabod and strangling him with her bare hands. There was a short rap on the door which Abbie barely heard above the blood still pumping in her ears. She continued her fruitless search on her dressing table even as she saw Jenny enter her bedroom from the corner of her eye. "All of my hair ties are gone again," she complained loudly and then swung around to glare accusingly at Jenny. "I told you, stop taking my hair ties all the time!"

"Oh yeah," said Jenny laconically, folding her arms in front of herself. "Because this is what this is all about – hair ties."

"I don't want to talk about it," ground out Abbie. She gave up looking for the accessory and started to stalk back and forth across the room. "Can you believe what Crane said out there?" she raged. "I mean, the man must be crazy! Why the hell would he think I'd ever want to kiss him?"

"Is this us not talking about it?" asked Jenny in vague amusement as she took a seat on a nearby chair and watched her sister pace up and down the small room.

"We're not like that!" Abbie ground out, barely registering Jenny's words. "I've never done anything to make him think I was in the least bit interested in him that way!"

"Except for the tongue thing."

Abbie sucked in an outraged breath and swung around to glare at her sister. "That didn't happen!"

Jenny shrugged. "Crane seemed pretty sure it did and it's not like he's big on the lying thing."

Abbie's eyes narrowed menacingly. "And you're saying I am?"

Jenny pursed her lips. "Let's just say that it wouldn't exactly be the first time that something happened that you couldn't deal with and decided to just pretend like it didn't."

"How long are you going to keep holding that against me?" bit out Abbie. "I was a kid, I made a mistake."

"I know, I'm just saying, if you did have stuff you wanted to talk about with me then that's fine, no judgments here."

Abbie's head was spinning as she threw up her hands in disbelief. "What is it about me that makes everyone so ready to believe I'm willing to jump Crane's bones at any second?" she asked with real anger. It rocked her to the core to imagine Ichabod thinking of her lusting after him every time they were together. Suddenly it felt like everything they'd built up between them was based on a lie.

Jenny tilted her head slightly. "Well, he's not exactly hideous to look at if you can ignore the wardrobe and he's got that manners thing happening which is pretty charming. He can hold his own in a fight, plus he can be funny when he wants to be." She half-smiled. "And when he doesn't want to be. Some people might think that's not such a bad package."

Abbie's lips thinned. "It sounds like you've taken a lot of notice."

"Crane isn't my type," said Jenny simply. "I tend to go for bad boy losers."

"The implication being he's my type," said Abbie angrily. "A married man?" She still couldn't believe Ichabod would think her capable of wanting him to betray his marriage to Katrina. It was easier to think of Ichabod as having lost his mind rather than him thinking she was constantly on the hunt for married men to hook up with.

"I'm not implying anything," said Jenny firmly. "I'm just saying something is obviously going on here and we need to figure out what." She looked at Abbie intently. "Now, are you absolutely certain Crane is lying about this?"

Abbie opened her mouth to yell 'yes' at her sister but then was forced to close it. Jenny was right, it wasn't in Ichabod's nature to lie. She turned her head away, trying to grapple with what that meant. If Ichabod wasn't lying, then that meant he really did think she'd not only kissed him but a whole lot more from how he was reacting. Suddenly Abbie's legs didn't feel like they could hold up her weight any longer. She walked over on shaky legs to sit down heavily on the bed. "No," she said hoarsely, "I don't think Crane thinks he's lying." Abbie put an unsteady hand to her now throbbing head. "Which means one of us has gone mad." She looked up at Jenny with wide eyes. "Which one of us do you think has lost their minds?" she asked anxiously.

"After what I just saw, it's too close to call," said Jenny dryly. She came to sit on the bed beside Abbie on the bed. "Okay, let's take this from the top. Crane thinks you kissed him and you seriously have no memory of something like that happening or nearly happening between you two before?"

"No," said Abbie determinedly, "why would it? He's married and the time we spend together is mostly us just not trying to die. It's not exactly candlelight dinners and romantic walks on the beach. Nothing remotely romantic has ever happened between us and never will because he loves Katrina too much." Abbie saw the way Jenny was looking at her and quickly clarified. "And because I don't want it to. I'm not interested in anymore complications in my life. It's bad enough I got lumbered with this Witness thing. I don't need some Gothic romance destined to end in tragically to go with it."

"That's a lot of protesting," said Jenny noted dryly of Abbie's outburst.

"Seriously?" asked Abbie in agitation at the doubt she could hear in her sister's voice. "Whose side are you on anyways?"

"Common sense," shot back Jenny. "And common sense tells me that something happened between you and Crane to get him this upset. Now, we've just got to figure out what that might be."

Abbie squeezed her eyes close as the pounding in her head worsened. Without all of that anger pumping through her veins she felt tired and flat. "I don't know what is going on. Maybe you're right, maybe it's me and I'm losing my mind. I certainly feel like I am sometimes."

"Can you think of anything strange recently, something you've done or seen, which might give us a clue to what is going on?"

Abbie opened her eyes and gave Jenny an exasperated look. "A simpler question would be what haven't I seen or done that isn't strange."

"You know what I mean," pushed Jenny. "Anything out of the ordinary, well, your kind of ordinary these days."

Abbie frowned, thinking hard. "I don't know, I'm sort of losing track of my days sometimes."

Jenny leaned in closer. "What do you mean?"

Abbie gave a frustrated shrug of her shoulders. "Just that sometimes it's later than I think it is." She shook her head. "I'm just so tired all the time these days."

"Hence the sudden ramping up of your coffee addiction."

Abbie scowled. "I'm not addicted."

"Oh really? Just how many cups of coffee have you had today, anyways?"

"Two," said Abbie defensively.

"And by two you mean…?"

"Seven," she admitted in resignation, having picked up a coffee on her way to Crane's house and then had another one when they'd stopped at the store.

Jenny shook her head at her. "Girl, no wonder you're not in your right mind. I know how you take your coffee, you're more caffeine than blood right now. You must be buzzing."

Abbie blinked, realizing she wasn't. "I'm exhausted," she confessed reluctantly. Abbie ran a tired hand through her hair. "I feel like I could sleep for a week."

"Okay, well, maybe that isn't such a bad idea."

Abbie made a face. "You want me to sleep, at a time like this?"

"Look, we're not going to figure this out while you're dead on your feet. You may as well get some rest and then we can figure this out once you've got a clear head."

Abbie wanted to argue some more but the truth was she did feel completely fatigued. Her fight with Ichabod felt like it had drained every last piece of energy from her and she was completely spent. "I'll just take a nap for half an hour to get rid of this headache."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Wake me up in half an hour," pushed Abbie.

"I will," said Jenny easily. She stood up and walked to the door. "You just get some rest. You'll see, everything won't seem so bad when you wake up."

"I find that hard to believe," muttered Abbie under her breath even as she lay back on her bed. She sighed deeply, instantly feeling the pull of sleep, despite the way her mind was still racing. Abbie couldn't help but wonder what Ichabod was doing right then and more importantly, what he was thinking. She couldn't believe that he'd been walking around all of this time with memories of the two of them going at it in his head. Abbie blushed at the thought. Now that her shock and anger had subsided she had a million questions. Just how long had this been going on for, whatever it was? How far did they get? Did it really happen or did one of them just dream it up? Were they being messed with by some outside force? The questions chased themselves around in Abbie's head until she was convinced she'd never sleep again, despite her exhaustion. All she wanted was some answers and for what Ichabod thought had happened not to have happened at all.

Was that really too much to ask for?

#

Jenny looked up at the knock on the door and walked over to answer it. She half-smiled at the man standing on the other side. "Hey." She stepped back to let Irving in. "How's your red hot mess?"

"Back at his cabin, hitting the books," replied Irving as he walked into the apartment. "Yours?"

"I just checked on her, she's asleep, has been for nearly an hour now." Jenny closed the door behind him. "I told her I'd wake her in half an hour." She walked past Irving and indicated he should take a seat across from her at the kitchen table. "I'm not going to. Girl is dead on her feet." Jenny looked at Irving with interest. "What did yours say?"

"He's still sticking to his story."

"Mine too. Abbie's got no memories of trying to sex Crane up."

"Well, Crane definitely does have those memories and he's not handling it well."

"Really? Because he's hidden it amazingly so far."

Irving made a face at her sarcasm. "Yeah, he's quite the Sphinx our Ichabod Crane," he said sardonically.

"Want to hear my theory?"

"Shoot."

"I think one of them is being possessed."

Irving inclined his head. "That's pretty much where we're at too. Crane is sure it's Abbie though."

"Let's face it, you don't let the most disorientated people in a group lead you out of the woods," said Jenny practically. "Both my sister and Crane aren't exactly firing on all four cylinders right now. If we're going to work out what is happening with those two, it's probably going to be down to us. I don't really trust either one of their judgments right now."

"Agreed." Irving leant on the table and gave Jenny a curious look. "Before we were treated to a live rendering of an episode of 'Moonlighting'—"

"Another retro reference."

Irving shrugged and looked unapologetic. "I'm old school."

"You really are."

"Anyways, my point being, I was lured here in the first place with talk of you having found out something about this Anima bible. What was that exactly?"

"I have the location of some of Max Duncan's stashing places. There is a chance the bible might be in one of them. It isn't much but it's a place to start."

"And how did you come across such information, I wonder?"

"A lady never reveals her age, weight, or her friends in low places," said Jenny sweetly.

Irving arched an eyebrow at her. "You have friends in low places?"

"It's better than having enemies in low places."

"I can see that. So, where are these places? I think we should start checking them out now."

"Now?" Jenny sent a hesitant look over at Abbie's bedroom door. "I don't know if I should leave Abbie alone right now."

"She's asleep and Crane is holed up at his place buried in books," reasoned Irving. "There isn't much more we can do until we find some answers and maybe this book will have some."

"You think the Anima is linked to what is happening with Abbie and Crane?" asked Jenny sharply.

"Honestly, I have no idea. What I do know is that all this weirdness started around the same time and maybe that's a coincidence and maybe it isn't but it's a place to start."

"The first address isn't far from here," said Jenny thoughtfully. "It wouldn't take us that long to check it out."

"Sounds like a plan. At least this day won't be a complete wipeout, particularly if we find something."

Jenny had to agree. It felt like they'd lost some ground in the war with the two Witnesses being so out of sorts with one another. It'd feel good to reclaim some of that ground with a win in finding the Anima. "I'm in," she said decisively, standing up. "It's not like today can get any worse anyways."

Irving wrinkled his nose. "I really wish you hadn't said that."

Jenny gave a little snort. "You didn't strike me as the superstitious type."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't, not until I moved here," said Irving wryly. "Now it pays to be cautious."

Jenny shook her head at him but a part of her couldn't help but agree.

#

Ichabod reread the paragraph in front of him for the fourth time and then just gave up. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. It was of no use. He couldn't keep his wits about him to comprehend any of the information he was trying to read. Over and over again he caught himself going back to his argument with Abbie and trying to make sense of it. If a demon had indeed possessed the Lieutenant then Ichabod felt like his lapses with her were even more of a betrayal. For her body to have been forced into service for the malignant purposes of another and for him to be party to such debasement in any way, weighed heavily on Ichabod's conscience. It felt like a violation of Abbie at the most basic level and it was a violation he'd been complicit in, however unknowingly. Ichabod put a hand to his mouth and closed his eyes, feeling angry and sick at the thought. How could he have let this happen? How could he have not seen the possibility of a cloaked attack from the enemy, using one of them against the other? Was his male ego such that he truly couldn't see beyond thinking a beautiful young woman would become so enamored of him that she'd abandon all reason for him? Ichabod really didn't like to think so but it was hard to find another excuse for his blindness. The phone box beeped, signaling a message.

"Crane."

Ichabod's eyes snapped opened as he recognized Abbie's voice instantly. His heart leapt in his chest before nerves immediately tightened his stomach. Was she calling him to say she wished him to never darken her door again?

"Crane, I–I don't know where I am," said Abbie weakly.

Ichabod leapt to his feet at hearing the distress in the young woman's voice.

"Please, help me, I don't know where I am," she repeated in anguish. "I–I don't know what's happening to me. Crane, please, find me."

"Lieutenant!" said Ichabod urgently, rushing to the device which trapped her voice, "I am coming."

"I don't know where I am," she whispered.

"I am coming, Abbie," he said, forgetting once again in his panic that she could not hear him. "I will find you!"

"Crane…" she breathed his name and then the line went dead.

"Lieutenant," said Ichabod in anguish, not knowing what fresh hell was this. All he knew as that Abbie was lost and he was going to find her, one way or the other. Ichabod's mind raced as he tried to work out how exactly he was going to do that…

**A/N****: And yes, another cliff hanger – what can I say, I'm a fiend. ;) Any guesses as to what fate might have befell poor old Abbie? And how is Ichabod going to find her? Ah, so many questions, so little time. LOL It all gets real in the next chapter, peeps, so brace yourself accordingly. :D **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N****: Another huge chapter by my standards but I really couldn't find a place to break it up without ruining the momentum – so you basically got two chapters for the price of one. I'm being generous today. ;) **

**Loved reading all of your reviews as always. It really does help inspire this story. And further to my last A/N about a romance between Ichabod and Abbie – well, I believe fan fic has to ring true when people read it. It has to seem like it could actually happen on the show. In my mind, that is a big component of what makes up engaging fan fic. Whilst I love the aspect of fan fic whereby you get to explore different aspects and s/l's for your characters then what you see on screen, I do believe that if there is to be any deviation from canon, then it has to be earned or justified over time. For me, even if you ship Ichabod and Abbie, just having them suddenly hook up doesn't satisfy. It has to be a journey so that even non-shippers can get on board with that development, or at the very least, feel that it was a justified turn in the story. I just think that makes for an overall more satisfying, character-driven kind of story telling then instant gratification. Don't get me wrong, quickies can be great, but I guess I tend to go for the more substantial investment in relationships and characters. But that's just me. **

**Anyways, I guess my goal with this story is to entertain with all of the characters in various ways. I want them all to shine as best as I am able and make them ring true to you, even as I develop them away from where they are currently at on the show. **

**But, enough rambling from me – you've got a rambling chapter to read yet! This one was a long and exhausting one for me to write – hopefully it won't be a similar experience in the reading… hopefully. **

**Thank you once again to all who comment, fave and follow this story. Each one helps to inspire me to write the next chapter. Bless. 3**

**CHAPTER** **FOURTEEN**

Ichabod leaned forward in the backseat of Irving's car, making an impatient noise. "How much further?"

"Like I told you two minutes ago, we're almost there," said Irving tightly as he sped along the back roads.

"Try to calm down, Crane," Jenny advised him from the front seat. "Abbie is going to be fine."

Even as Jenny tried to act composed, Ichabod could hear the underlying worry in the young woman's voice. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her she had good reason to indeed be worried after having heard the fear in Abbie's voice on his phone box. But Ichabod contained himself, knowing that would be cruel of him to add to Miss Jenny's concern. It was just that he'd never heard that tone in the Lieutenant's voice before and it frightened him. He had no idea of what fate could have befallen her and by whose hand. They had so many enemies these days, some hidden, some in the plain light of day, but all of them wishing to put an end to the lives of the two Witnesses. Ichabod sat back in his seat, his hands clenching into fists on his knees. This transportation to the Lieutenant's car seemed interminable. He looked out the window, not even registering the trees flashing by.

As soon as Ichabod had received the message from Abbie, he'd called Jenny only to find out that she and the Captain were off somewhere together, having left Abbie alone in her apartment. Ichabod ground his teeth together, feeling the need to shout at them both for such folly once again rising up in him. As though reading his mind, Jenny suddenly spoke.

"I shouldn't have left Abbie alone," said Jenny unhappily. "It was stupid."

Irving gave a short shake of his head but kept his eyes on the road. "None of us could have guessed that this would have happened. It's no one's fault except whoever has taken your sister."

Ichabod's hands clenched so tightly on his knees that his knuckles whitened. Even though he knew the Captain spoke the truth, the need to blame someone for this latest downward turn was hard to resist. The truth was, as much as he wanted to shout at Miss Jenny and the Captain for their carelessness, it was himself he blamed the most. He'd left Abbie in such a state that she was no doubt an easy target for any and all of the dark forces which snapped at their heels with relentless regularity. "How much longer?" he bit out, eyes still on the trees whizzing by.

"Crane, this isn't helping," said Irving tersely. "The tracking device in Abbie's loaner car has her not too far away. We're almost there."

Whilst Ichabod found a lot of the advances of this modern world somewhat redundant, he couldn't help but be grateful for the beacons Irving had told him were implanted into all police vehicles for ease of locating at any given time. When it was discovered that Abbie wasn't in the apartment, Irving and Jenny had quickly found her car to be missing also, so tracking the vehicle had been as simple as a phone call… and an unending journey to the destination.

"Abbie's car isn't moving, so that's something," continued on Irving.

No one wanted to give voice to the worry that they had no way of knowing if that was a good something or an ominous one but Ichabod knew they were all thinking it. "You were certain there was no sign of a forced entry into the apartment?" he quizzed Jenny.

"My answer is the same the other three times you asked that question," said Jenny in irritation. "No, there was no sign of anyone breaking in."

"That doesn't mean much these days," said Irving gravely. "With things that can walk through walls and leap out of mirrors at you, doors don't exactly need to be kicked down anymore." He rounded a curve in the road and made a relieved sound. "We're here."

The car was still coming to a halt when Ichabod disembarked, too impatient to wait for the car to come to a complete standstill. He rushed over to Abbie's car which was pulled off to the side of the road, the driver's door wide opened. Jenny and Irving were right behind him. Ichabod quickly checked the back and front seats of the car but there was no sign of Abbie.

"The trunk," Jenny said, rushing to press a button inside of car on the driver's side.

The back of the car popped open and Ichabod swung around to watch Irving immediately check inside.

"Empty," ground out the other man.

"Damnation," growled Ichabod.

"Guys?"

Ichabod turned around at the sound of Jenny's voice and saw her holding up her hand which had smears of red on her fingertips.

_Blood_.

"Okay," said Jenny unevenly, "now I'm officially worried."

Ichabod strode up to her, taking her by the wrist and examining the blood before turning his attention to the inside of the car. He immediately spotted another smear on the inside door handle.

"It may not be Abbie's," reasoned Irving, coming to join them. "It looks like the driver was injured. If she was taken, then maybe Abbie got a few good hits in before making a run for it?"

Ichabod's gaze was intent on the ground, looking at the footprints in the relatively soft mud around the car. "The Lieutenant was the driver," said Ichabod grimly, walking around the front of the car, eyes still trained on the ground and reading all of the imprints he could see with practiced ease.

"Are you sure or is that just a guess?" asked Irving skeptically.

"If I was uncertain I would say so," said Ichabod tersely. "It is not my intent to take liberties with Miss Mill's safety. Only her footprints are by the driver's side of the car and the position of the seat is in its most advanced setting. Both of these things indicate either Miss Mills was driving or someone of similar short stature took her and her shoes, which seems somewhat unlikely."

Irving walked around to his side. "Alright, Crane, no need for the attitude. I was just asking."

Ichabod knew he was being discourteous to someone who was only trying to help but he couldn't help but feel impatience rather than regret. He crouched down and reached out to a blemish on the ground near one of the foot prints. Ichabod looked at his fingers, stained in mud mixed with more blood. His jaw hardened. "She's hurt, bleeding and it appears to be no small wound." Ichabod had no doubt who the blood belonged to now. The shoe prints in the mud were most assuredly Abbie's, he knew them well and the blood was in such a position that it would have been dripping off her as she moved. Ichabod had seen it before when tracking wounded animals, he knew the signs.

"But still moving," said Jenny, her face lined with anxiety. "That's something, right?"

Ichabod wanted to reassure Jenny but couldn't find the words. He just didn't know what they were going to find at the end of this blood trail and his stomach turned over in dread just thinking about it.

Irving had pulled out his phone and was already making a call, his voice full of authority. "This is Captain Frank Irving. I need an ambulance out on Old Walker's road. We have an officer down and I need the tracking dogs sent to the same location, along with every available squad car."

Jenny looked around herself, trying to work out the chain of events. "So, what, he made her drive here and then chased her into the woods?"

"The Lieutenant was alone," concluded Ichabod, turning around on the spot slowly, making certain he hadn't missed anything.

"Alone?" repeated Jenny. "Are you sure?"

Ichabod made a frustrated noise under his breath. "Again, I would not trifle with Miss Mill's life with making statements I did not wholly know to be the truth."

"The tracking squad is on the way," said Irving quickly. "The dogs will find her."

Ichabod's gaze followed the clear line of Abbie's tracks into the line of trees and shook his head. "We have no need of any assistance in finding the Lieutenant. A blind man could follow this trail."

"Then what are we waiting for?" asked Jenny sharply. "Let's go already."

Ichabod gave her a short nod and started towards the line of trees. "Keep up," he ordered them. "I will not slow my pace for you." Ichabod broke into a trot as the trees around him became denser. He kept his eyes on the ground, following those small footprints deeper into the woods.

"You just make sure you lose the trail," Jenny advised him from behind. "Don't worry about us."

Ichabod was able to follow most of Abbie's trail, running in spots to make up for when he'd have to stop and find the next track. Unfortunately, her tracks were becoming easier to read because the blood trails were becoming more obvious. It wasn't what Ichabod wanted to see. He stopped by a tree, attention caught by a larger pool of blood. Ichabod saw something by the trunk of a large tree and bent down to retrieve it.

"Did you find something?" asked Jenny breathlessly as she caught up with him seconds later. Irving was right behind her.

Ichabod straightened up, Abbie's cell phone in his hand. It was covered in blood.

Jenny snatched it from Ichabod's hand and pressed a few buttons. "The last call she made was to you," said Jenny, checking the history. "Then nothing." She looked up. "Abbie! Abbie! Can you hear me? _Abbie_!"

They all strained their ears for some kind of reply but there was only the silence of the forest in return for Jenny's cries. Ichabod pushed himself away from the tree, immediately finding new tracks which he wordlessly continued to follow. A few minutes later he came to a depression in the ground and he crouched down beside the indent. "She fell here." The blood in and around the area was significant. "It seems as though she took a moment to stand again by the amount of blood loss." The chances of a happy outcome to this search were starting to feel like they were slipping through Ichabod's fingers. He couldn't let himself think that way though, pushing the dark thoughts aside, he straightened up and followed the uneven footsteps deeper into the woods. They'd barely gone a hundred feet when Ichabod saw a flash of white through the trees. "Lieutenant!" he called out, breaking into a run. Ichabod crashed through the foliage and then dropped to his knees beside the inert form of Abbie lying face down on the forest floor.

"Abbie!" called out Jenny in horror, kneeling on her other side. She reached out a shaking hand. "Abbie, can you hear me?"

There was no answer from Abbie and Ichabod and Jenny exchanged anxious looks before he took hold of one of Abbie's shoulders and carefully turned her over.

Jenny drew in a stricken breath at the sight of Abbie's once white t-shirt all but completely stained bright red with blood. Her arms were also covered in blood, she looked like she'd been shot or stabbed multiple times.

"Dear God in heaven," said Ichabod in distress. His battlefield instincts kicked in and he immediately pushed up the hem of Abbie's t-shirt to look for the wounds which had caused such a bloody tableau so he could stem further blood loss. His hand ran over the smooth skin, looking for damage of any kind under all of that blood.

Irving had pulled out his phone on first finding Abbie and was barking out orders. "Just track this phone and you'll find us. We need the EMT's here _now_!" He hung up abruptly and crouched down beside the others. "How bad is it?"

Ichabod's hands drifted over Abbie's stomach and sides, looking for something, anything which would explain all of this blood. "I cannot find a mark on her," he said in amazement.

"You saying this isn't her blood?" asked Irving in disbelief.

Ichabod watched fresh blood drip off Abbie's arm which he was now searching for a wound on. "N-no, it's hers. I just… I mean, I don't know where it is coming from." Abbie's skin looked completely unblemished to him but it didn't stop her continuing blood loss to seep into the material of his pants as he knelt beside her.

"Damn but I hate this town," ground out Irving harshly. "Why can't anything be simple anymore? If there isn't a wound, how can we stop the bleeding?"

"I have not the first idea, Captain," said Ichabod hopelessly. He'd assumed that when they'd found Abbie, that she would be safe but it didn't seem the case at all. It was galling to be this close to her and not be able to provide any kind of real help.

"Okay, this isn't going to happen," said Jenny angrily. "I'm not going to watch my sister bleed out in some back woods, you hear me?" She grabbed Abbie's shoulder and roughly shook it. "Wake up!" Jenny yelled the order at Abbie. "You're not going to leave me again, you get that? You're going to wake up right now or I'm going to tell everyone how you got that scar on your butt! Don't think I won't go there, because I will!" She shook Abbie's shoulder again. "You wake up right now so we can haul that big old scarred butt of yours outta here!"

Ichabod reached out a protective hand to push Jenny off of Abbie, not liking to see the Lieutenant handled so roughly while she was in a weakened state but then Abbie gave a little groan. His breath hitched in his throat as Abbie's eyes flickered open.

Abbie blinked up at them blearily. "You-you promised about the scar thing," she managed weakly to her sister.

Jenny gave a choked laugh. "Yeah, well, don't be scaring the hell out of me and nobody has to know anything about anything."

"Miss Mills," said Ichabod urgently, "how do you feel?"

"Not… good," she rasped and then tried to look around. "Wh-what happened to me?"

"We were kind of hoping you might fill in some blanks on that one," said Irving.

"Captain?" Abbie looked at him in groggy confusion. "What are you doing in-in my bedroom?" She blinked up at the sky. "And what are-are all these trees doing in my bedroom?"

"You're in the woods," Jenny informed her.

Abbie scowled. "Why is my bedroom in the woods now?"

Jenny looked over at the men. "I think she's a little confused."

"No, I'm not," insisted Abbie, battling to sit up but then she collapsed back down on the ground, her hand going to her head. "Oh God."

Ichabod cupped her face. "Do not attempt to move, Lieutenant. You have lost a lot of blood, you need to conserve your strength."

Abbie attempted to focus on his face. "Have I been ss-shot?" Her words were beginning to slur.

"We don't know what has happened to you," said Ichabod, trying to be reassuring as he could, "but you are not alone now. We will take you to safety, I promise you." He nodded at the others before slipping his arms under Abbie's shoulders and legs and standing up with her in his arms. Ichabod didn't know if it was his imagination but Abbie suddenly felt too light in his arms, like she was fading away before his very eyes. He started to retrace their steps.

"Crane, you sure you know your way back out of here?" asked Irving, falling into step behind him but looking around himself. "We don't want to get lost and have them going around in circles looking for us. All these trees look the same to me."

"They're not," said Ichabod shortly, easily able to remember their way back. He was an experienced woodsman and wasn't afraid of getting lost.

"Don't be getting up in Crane's sense of direction," Abbie advised Irving faintly. "He hates that."

"You were requested to conserve your strength, Lieutenant," Ichabod informed her.

Her reply was delivered with little strength but great intent. "You're not-not the boss of me."

"Indeed," said Ichabod, slightly heartened by Abbie's cheek but not slowing his pace any.

"Ironically I am the boss of you," said Irving dryly. "But don't let that stop you from telling me what to do. And am I the only one interested in closure on that butt scar story?" When there was no answer, he shrugged. "Okay, it's just me then. Good to know."

"That's a story I'm taking to my grave," said Jenny as she kept pace with Ichabod.

"You better," grunted Abbie. "Otherwise everyone is going to-to know about you and that squirrel incident."

"Ignore her, she's delirious," Jenny instructed the two men.

Ichabod supposed all this back and forth was an attempt by the others to keep the Lieutenant's mind off of her predicament but Ichabod found it somewhat vexing. "I really must insist you conserve your strength, Miss Mills, and leave talk of squirrels and maimed derrieres to another time."

A faint smile touched Abbie's lips, even as her eyes struggled to remain open. "Sorry, Crane, I know you're more of a fan of the beaver," she teased him shakily.

Jenny snorted. "Aren't all men?"

"Again with the snickering insinuations about a perfectly harmless woodland creature," said Ichabod in exasperation. "What am I not understanding on this matter?"

"If anyone answer that question I will shoot you myself," said Irving sternly. "I am not ruining a pair of two hundred dollar shoes—"

"How much?" gasped Ichabod.

Irving ignored him. "And having to sit through a sex ed class. That is not happening."

"You have all taken leave of your senses," snapped Ichabod. "At least the Lieutenant has a reason for her garbled speech and scatological conversation. I see fit to give no such allowances to anyone else."

"I'm not garbled," said Abbie unevenly. "Put me down, Crane, this is stupid. I can walk."

"No."

She struggled weakly in his arms. "Crane—"

Ichabod knew Abbie would be hating this display of weakness but he couldn't help that. She was in no fit state to walk and they needed to get her to medical care as soon as possible. "Stop flopping about," he said determinedly. "This is happening. There is to be no further discussion on the matter. I will not see you end yourself because of your damnable pride."

Abbie glared up at him.

"You're so going to pay for that later," observed Jenny, seeing the look in her sister's eyes.

"And it is a price I will happily pay once we have secured the Lieutenant's well-being," said Ichabod without hesitation. The next twenty minutes passed in a blur of adrenalin and a flurry of people suddenly appearing to help. The trackers met them halfway, the medical staff not far behind them. Ichabod reluctantly gave over Abbie to their care but he made sure to not take his eyes off her as they carried her on a stretcher back to the ambulance. He kept his gaze on her even when she was secreted away in the back of that ambulance, medics scrambling around her trying to stabilize weak vital signs. All the noise and confusion faded into the background for Ichabod as he kept his eyes trained on Abbie. It was hard to explain but he felt like as long as he could see her, then no further harm would come to her.

One of the field medics walked up to where he and Jenny were standing. "Okay, we've stabilized her enough to take her to hospital now."

"Good," said Ichabod, moving to join Abbie in the back of the ambulance, Jenny following.

The field medic held up his hand. "Sorry, only room for one of you to come with us. It's limited space back there."

Ichabod looked at Jenny, knowing he should defer to the Lieutenant's sister but the words wouldn't come. He just couldn't entertain the thought of leaving Abbie's side right then.

Jenny was looking at him and must have seen that driving need in his eyes. "It's okay. Irving and I will take his car and meet you there." She nodded at Ichabod. "You stay with her."

"Thank you, Miss Jenny," said Ichabod with heartfelt relief. He walked to the ambulance, ducking his head to climb into the back and took the small seat beside the stretcher Abbie was lying on. He looked in concern at how still she was.

"We've given her a mild sedative," explained the medic. "Her heart rate was up, we're just trying to get it back down."

"I concede to your judgment in this matter," said Ichabod, hoping this man truly did know his job well. He took Abbie's hand and squeezed it tightly, not sure she could feel him but needing her to know he was there anyway. The trip to the hospital seemed to pass by in a heartbeat, a direct contrast to the journey to find Abbie. At the hospital more people appeared, pulling Abbie on a stretcher from the back of the ambulance and scrambling to get her inside. Ichabod kept tight hold of her hand the whole time, refusing to let go until a man in a white coat stepped in front of him and held up a hand.

"Sorry, sir," said the man whose name pin declared him to be a Dr Peter Ross, "but you have to wait out here while we do our examination."

"It is important that I stay with her," argued Ichabod, not moving.

"I understand, sir, but it's more important that you let us do our job and look after this young woman properly. We can't do that with you getting in the way."

Ichabod scowled, understanding the doctor's point but not liking it. He bent down, lips close to Abbie's ear. "I must pass you into another's care, Lieutenant, but know that I am only a few feet away. If you call for me, I will hear you."

"Sir?" pushed the attendant wanting to move the gurney Abbie was lying on into the waiting treatment room.

Ichabod reluctantly released Abbie's hand and took a step back, watching her being quickly wheeled into a small room before a curtain was pulled, precluding him from seeing anything else except for feet. A hand touched his arm and Ichabod turned around to see a smiling nurse. "Sir, you can't be back here. You need to come with me to the waiting room."

Ichabod shook his head at her. "I'm sorry, madam, but I cannot oblige your request. I am not leaving."

"This area is only for family," explained the nurse patiently. "Are you family?"

Before Ichabod could answer Jenny was appearing around the corner. "He's her partner," she announced to the other woman, "and I'm Abbie's sister." She gave the woman a pointed look. "We're staying."

The nurse inclined her head. "That's fine, I just needed to make sure. It's just that we have these rules for a reason. We can't crowd up this area with a lot of people when we're working on our patients."

"We understand," said Jenny quickly. "We'll stay out of your way, promise."

The nurse smiled at them both before scurrying off to another part of the emergency room. Jenny took Ichabod's arm and pointed him towards several plastic chairs lined up against the wall. "Come on, let's sit down."

"Thank you for your intervention, Miss Jenny," said Ichabod, letting her lead him to the chairs and waiting until she'd taken a seat before doing the same. "I did not wish to argue with the woman but I was not going to leave."

"I know." Jenny gave him a sideways look. "Did Abbie say anything in the ambulance? Did she remember anything?"

"They gave her a tonic to make her sleep. I was unable to speak with Miss Mills further." Ichabod looked around. "Where is the Captain?"

"He's doing a debrief with the other officers." Jenny snorted. "I don't know what the hell he is going to say to them to try and explain what happened to Abbie seeing as not even she knows."

"The Captain will no doubt think of something plausible." Ichabod's gaze strayed over to the curtain and the murmur of low voices he could hear coming from behind it.

"You need to go and clean up, Crane," Jenny instructed him. She looked him over. "You look like an extra from Carrie."

Ichabod didn't understand the last part of Jenny's observation but he looked down at himself to see the he was indeed covered in Abbie's blood.

"They're not going to let you into any hospital room looking like that," said Jenny practically. "There is nothing we can do right now except wait, so you may as well put that time to good use."

Ichabod understood the reason in Jenny's observation. "You will fetch for me if—"

"Yes, you know I will. Just go and clean yourself up."

Ichabod hesitated for another brief second but then he was asking directions to the nearest rest room which he found easily. He walked into the brightly lit room and stood in front of the large mirror, staring at the man looking back at him. Ichabod was caught off-guard by the strain he could see on his own face. And how much of Abbie's blood he was actually covered in. He lifted his hands in front of his face, seeing how they were streaked in Abbie's blood.

_The day is coming when her blood will be on your hands. _

Max Duncan's words of warning suddenly came back to Ichabod. He felt a firm hand on his shoulder as Irving's reflection joined him in the mirror.

"How's it going in here?" asked Irving.

Ichabod was still staring at his hands. "He warned me," he said hoarsely. "He warned me this was going to happen but I didn't listen."

Irving frowned. "Who warned you?"

"Max Duncan," said Ichabod, letting his hands fall by his side and holding Irving's gaze in the mirror. "He told I was already losing Miss Mills and didn't even know, that she was dying in front of me but I couldn't see." Ichabod cursed his own short-sightedness. "Why didn't I give credence to the man's warnings?"

"Because he promptly turned into an exploding piñata?" offered up Irving. "That kind of undercuts his reliability as someone to listen to in my books."

"The unfortunate man was nothing but a minion made a pawn in a greater game of which he was dragged into unwillingly."

"I can relate," said Irving dryly. "Except for the minion part. I ain't nobody's minion."

"That's a double negative," Ichabod corrected him dully.

"I don't need grammar lesson from you in a men's restroom, Crane," said Irving flatly. "I was getting my ghetto on."

"I have absolutely no idea what that means." Ichabod made a face. "A welcome fact in an otherwise dark day."

"Look, Crane, try not to worry. Abbie is going to pull through this. She's tough."

"We don't even know what this is," said Ichabod hopelessly.

"We'll work it out."

Ichabod grimaced at Irving. "I thank you for your reassurances, Captain, but Miss Mill's fate is far from secured and in the meantime I am forced to sit helplessly by and watch her suffer and possibly die by the hand of an unknown force." A muscle ticked in Ichabod's jaw as he struggled to contain his frustration and anger. "Everything seems so pointless and random when we can fight so hard and then still lose everything."

"Nobody's fate is secure, Crane," said Irving. "I worked that out the day my daughter got hit by a car and we were told she'd never walk again. Macey didn't do a damn thing to deserve what happened to her either but it happened anyways."

Ichabod frowned, realizing he was being self-centered in his grief and anger. "I am truly sorry for what happened to your daughter, Captain," he said quietly. "It must be a heavy burden to carry."

"She's my baby, I'm meant to protect her," said Irving unevenly. "I live with that failure every day and that sense of helplessness. I know what you're going through, Crane and I know that you can't ever lose hope. Macey never did and she had every reason to. What can I do but find a way to follow my little girl's example? I know Abbie hasn't given up, so you don't get to either." He shrugged. "Those are the rules when you care about someone."

Ichabod gave a grimacing smile. "As always your words of counsel are gratefully received, Captain. Thank you."

"Just try and follow them this time," said Irving, not unkindly. He nodded at Ichabod's reflection. "And try and get yourself looking a little respectable, okay? You look like an extra from Carrie."

Ichabod scowled. "That is what Miss Jenny said. I don't know why everyone in this century persists in talking in such utter gibberish and with a consistency that boggles the mind."

"Not a horror movie fan, got it," said Irving wryly. "Just get yourself cleaned up, Lady McBeth."

"Finally a reference I can understand," said Ichabod sourly.

Irving's lips quirked. "Knew you'd like it." He started to leave. "I'll see you out there."

Ichabod took his time cleaning up, mulling over the Captain's words and the events of the day. He was still churning with so many emotions it was all but impossible to separate them. In fact, until he knew for certain Abbie was going to be alright, Ichabod doubted he'd be able to think straight again. Having done the best he could with the amenities provided, Ichabod headed back out to find Jenny still sitting where he'd left her.

She looked him over. "Better," said Jenny approvingly. "You don't look like a serial killer anymore."

"A small mercy, I'm sure," said Ichabod, taking a seat next to her again and then realizing that no one was behind the curtain anymore, just a floor littered with blood-soaked wads of cotton and gauze. He sat bolt upright in his chair. "Where is Miss Mills?" he asked anxiously. "What has happened?"

"Calm down, Crane. They've taken her to ICU and they asked me to wait here for the doctor to speak to us."

"What is ICU?" fretted Ichabod, once again cursing this era's unending love for acronyms. It was maddening.

"Intensive care unit. It's just somewhere that they can keep a really close eye on people. It means they've got everything they need if something goes wrong." Jenny gave him an encouraging look. "It's okay, Crane, that's a good place for Abbie to be. The best place, in fact."

"Then we should be with her," said Ichabod determinedly, standing up.

"We have to wait for the doctor." Jenny stood up and looked past him. "And this looks like him now."

It was the same doctor who had asked for Ichabod to leave Abbie's side. He smiled at them both. "Hi there, I'm Dr Ross. I'm in charge of Abbie's care."

"How is she?" asked Jenny hastily. "Abbie's going to be fine, right?"

Ichabod joined Jenny in looking at the doctor with expectant hope. Of course the Lieutenant was going to be alright. She had to be.

Dr Ross looked between them. "I've just finished doing a complete work up on Abbie." His expression became very serious. "And we really need to talk."

The doctor's tone was so ominous Ichabod couldn't help but dread what he was about to hear…

**A/N****: And yes, another cliff hanger, but a pretty mild one, right? At least Abbie is in hospital now – nothing can happen to her now… or can it? Yes, guys and dolls… I am that evil. *insert maniacal laughter*. Stay tuned to find out what my fiendish brain cooks up next. ;) **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N****: Phew, found this chapter heavy going. I hope it doesn't read like that for you guys but there is a fair amount of angst in it, so brace accordingly. **

**This and the next couple of chapters are all very emotional ones, so I hope you don't get bored with that. We're just up to that point in the story. **

**Thanks as always for reading… :D **

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Abby struggled to open her eyes and then was forced to blink from the brightly lit room. She didn't know where she was. Groggily trying to remember what had happened to her, Abbie heard people talking in low voices somewhere in the room. She turned her head and managed to focus on Jenny and Ichabod who were standing in a corner, talking to each other in quiet undertones. Abbie saw right away that they were discussing something rather heatedly, even if softly. She licked her dry lips. "What are you two talking about?" she rasped.

Both of them turned to look at her in surprise followed quickly by relief.

Jenny grinned and hurried over to her bedside. "You're awake, finally. I thought you were going to make a career out of it."

Abbie wrinkled her nose and looked around. "Where am I? Is this a hospital room?"

"ICU to be exact," said Jenny. "How are you feeling?"

Abbie didn't feel that great but she wasn't going to admit it. "Like I don't need to be in a hospital. When can I get out of here?" She watched Jenny and Ichabod exchange looks.

Ichabod smiled down at her. "We were just discussing that very matter, Lieutenant."

"What's to discuss? Get me out of here." Abbie went to sit up but her head promptly started to spin so badly she was forced to lie back down. She gritted her teeth and tried again.

Ichabod's hand was on her shoulder, pressing her gently back onto the bed. "I believe it would be a folly to repeat your actions and expect a different outcome, Miss Mills. Please lie still. You are in no condition to be taking leave of this establishment at the moment."

Abbie glared up at him, not wanting Ichabod to be right but fearing he was. "What's going on? How did I get here?" Everything was a jumbled blur in her mind. Abbie struggled to know what was going on.

"You don't remember?" asked Jenny seriously.

Abbie blinked, trying to think. "I was at home, on my bed after-after…" She glanced at Ichabod and then her gaze skittered away, suddenly remembering their fight and not really wanting to think about that when she was lying down and Ichabod was standing. Abbie already felt at a decided disadvantage. "You know," she said uncomfortably, "and then I woke up here." More tangled memories came back to her. "No, wait, I was outside, in the woods." She scowled, trying to remember. She remembered being carried, maybe, Abbie wasn't sure. "Wasn't I?"

"That's where we found you," confirmed Jenny.

Abbie's brow wrinkled. "How did I get there?"

"It is our belief that you drove yourself to an area along Old Walker road, disembarked and started walking."

Abbie looked at Ichabod blankly. "Why would I do that?" She put a hand to her head. "And why don't I remember doing anything like that?"

"That is indeed a very good question, Miss Mills," said Ichabod unevenly. "And one we have yet to find an answer for."

Abbie tried to sit up again, this time more slowly. "Well, we're not going to find any answers in a hospital bed."

"Or maybe we will," answered Jenny.

Abbie frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

Ichabod made a small noise of impatience. "I believe Miss Jenny refers to the fact that the medical practitioners who have undertaken your care believe your malaise to be of a physical nature and wish to pursue further, frankly barbaric, testing on you."

"It's called a bone marrow, Crane," said Jenny in tersely, "and it's a perfectly acceptable medical procedure nowadays."

"Just as the thumbscrews were a perfectly acceptable form of torture in my day and age," bit out Ichabod. "Acceptance does not automatically bestow correctness on something."

"The doctors want me to have a bone marrow?" asked Abbie in bewilderment. "Why?"

Ichabod made an agitated noise. "Because they believe that inserting a large needle into your personage and drawing the very marrow from your bones will give answers to what ails you and we all know that is not the case." He gave Jenny a pointed look after that statement.

"We don't know that, Crane," said Jenny shortly.

"This affliction which assails your sister is clearly supernatural in cause," argued Ichabod sharply. "To subject her to further unnecessary traumas on her person in the pursuit of confirming a misinformed hypothesis is not only redundant, it is cruel."

Jenny glared at Ichabod. "And what if the doctors are right and Abbie does have leukemia? Do you even know what that word means and how serious this is?"

"My Greek is sufficient to glean its meaning," said Ichabod stiffly, "and I understood fully Doctor Ross' discourse on the subject but that does not change the fact that Miss Mill's is not suffering from this or any other disease."

Abbie couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Wait, what? They think I have leukemia?" she asked shakily.

"A belief they are mistaken in," said Ichabod firmly.

"You don't know that!" snapped Jenny. "You're not a doctor. Medicine back in your day was hacking off limbs and sticking leeches on people! You were lucky if you survived a trip to the doctor! Well, that isn't the case today. Doctor's actually know what they are talking about in this century."

"Poppycock," bit out Ichabod, jaw hardening. "Because if they did then they'd stop to ask themselves how Miss Mills came to lose so much blood and yet have no marks on her form to give an account of how? According to this piece of literature—" Ichabod picked up a pamphlet from the nearby table and waved it about, "that is not a symptom of any leukemia, nor is the parainsomnia which saw her drive her car miles into the woods in her sleep." He threw the pamphlet back down on the bedside table. "This is clearly the work of forces outside this realm and we waste time, time that your sister is precariously short of, in pursuing an avenue of investigation which we already know will prove to be fruitless."

"Who are you to get all up in my face about what is best for my sister?" asked Jenny angrily. "I'm her family, not you! This doesn't concern you!"

"It most certainly does concern me!"

Abbie held up her hands. "Okay, enough!" She looked between them in frustration. "I'm still here, right? You can both see me? I'm not dead yet, right?"

"Of course not," said Ichabod unhappily. He inclined his head slightly. "Our apologies, Lieutenant."

Jenny scowled up at him. "Don't you apologize for me, Crane. I don't have anything to be sorry for because I'm trying to do what's best for Abbie."

"The implication being that I am not?" asked an offended Ichabod. "Even the very suggestion is so steeped in absurdity that—"

"Shut up, both you!" snapped Abbie. "Stop talking about me like I'm not even here." That outburst took more of her strength then she'd have liked and Abbie was forced to slump back against the headboard of her bed. "Damn," she said unsteadily, putting a shaking hand to her head. "Can someone just tell me exactly what is going on here, please?"

Jenny was quick to answer. "When you were brought in the doctors did all these tests on you and found your hemoglobin was very low, lower than it should have been with the blood loss you suffered and your white cells were way up." Jenny's features darkened with concern. "They think you have leukemia and want to do more tests to find out what exactly is going on. I think that's a good idea."

Ichabod wanted to say his piece now. "The doctor also said that you'd had your blood tested barely a month ago and it was completely normal. He could offer no explanation as to this drastic presentation of the disease he believes you to have. Nor could the man give reason to how you came to lose so much blood with no wounds to show for it or the fact that you were able to drive a car no little distance with no memory of doing so. There is far more at work here than a simple disease process, of that I am certain." He shook his head at Abbie. "And all of this is not even taking into account your previous memory lapses."

Abbie felt her cheeks heat, realizing Ichabod was referring to his assertions that she'd thrown herself at him more than once in the past. She still couldn't believe she'd have done something like that but then again, Abbie had no idea how she'd ended up in the woods either. It was with a horrible sinking sensation she was forced to admit that Ichabod might be right about what he said had happened between them. Abbie felt sick at the thought.

"Of which we do not have to speak of now," said Ichabod hastily, obviously seeing the distress on her face. "All that matters is returning you to full strength so we may face down this latest attack together."

Abbie tried to collect her wits with all of this new information, something coming back to her. "He told me," she murmured dazedly.

"Who told you?" asked Jenny.

"Max Duncan."

"What did he say to you?" asked Ichabod urgently.

"That I was already dead." Abbie held Ichabod's gaze. "That we both were."

"A flawed statement as we both still draw breath," said Ichabod grimly.

Abbie bit her bottom lip, remembering the words she'd dismissed on the night. "He said that he was sorry for what had happened to us." She looked at Jenny then. "And for what was happening to me in my dreams."

"What does that mean?" asked Jenny sharply.

"I didn't think it meant anything, just a desperate guy trying to stall. I mean, I haven't dreamed in weeks, so I just thought he was trying to throw me off."

"What do you mean you haven't dreamed?" asked Ichabod.

Abbie gave a little shrug. "I don't remember having any dreams. I close my eyes at night and then open them again in the morning and there is just nothing in between."

Jenny shook her head at her. "Everyone dreams, Abbie, we just don't always remember them but you still have this vague feeling of having dreamed."

"I haven't, not in the last few weeks. It's just been a whole lot of nothing."

Jenny tilted her head at her. "Is this around the time you started to freebase coffee like there was no tomorrow?"

Abbie pouted. "I guess."

"You see," said Ichabod triumphantly, "more is afoot then a simply disease. This is obviously the work of pernicious forces."

"Oh yay," said Abbie flatly, "I don't have cancer, but I get to have a pernicious force roaming around in my body. Aren't I just every flavor of lucky?"

"You should still get yourself checked out properly," insisted Jenny stubbornly. "Sometimes people get sick and it isn't all about Headless Horsemen and ominous prophecies!"

"Why would you have your sister subjected to further discomfort when it is unnecessary?" threw back Ichabod.

"Unnecessary in your opinion," said Jenny bitterly.

"Do I get in a say in all of this?" asked Abbie in vague annoyance.

"But of course, Miss Mills. You must do as you see fit."

Abbie thought about it for a moment. "Okay, I think Crane is right and—"

"Of course you do," growled Jenny. "Forget it. I guess I'm the only one who thinks it's worthwhile not taking any chances with your health."

"Jenny," said Abbie unhappily, "you know that isn't how it is." She reached out a hand to take Jenny's but her sister pulled away. Abbie grimaced. "I just think that Ichabod is right and that whatever is happening to me is because of Moloch or something like that. It just makes more sense to me. This isn't about you and me."

Jenny's lips thinned and she avoided looking at Abbie. "It never is. I'm going to get some fresh air."

"Jenny," called out Abbie after her as the other woman abruptly turned around and walked out of the room. "Jenny," groaned Abbie on seeing her leave so upset.

Ichabod grimaced. "I seem to have developed the unhappy skill of upsetting Mills' women."

"It's not about you, it's about us," said Abbie with a sigh. "Old wounds, you know, family stuff." She looked back at Ichabod and frowned. "How long have I been here? What time is it?"

"I believe it to be just before six o'clock in the evening. You have been here approximately five hours."

"And when can I leave?" asked Abbie anxiously. She looked around the room. "I hate hospitals."

"As do many but the doctors were most insistent that you stay overnight at the very least, so that they monitor your recovery from your misadventure."

Abbie tilted her head, still trying to piece this altogether. "You said I was bleeding?" She vaguely remembered red all over her clothes.

"Indeed, but you bear no physical wounds to that end."

Abbie wrinkled her nose. "Creepy."

"It was indeed unsettling because there was no way any of us could render you assistance at the time."

Abbie looked up at him and saw the worry etched on Ichabod's face. "Did-did I call you or something? I think I remember calling you."

"Yes, my phone box trapped your message and we were able to find you in time."

Abbie needed some answers, she hated being this much in the dark. "Do you have any theories about the who, what or why of all of this?"

Ichabod moved his shoulders. "Obviously I have considered Moloch's malicious hand to be over this but then, there is also the Anima bible. Mayhap these attacks are linked to the pursuit of that book?"

"Duncan knew about Katrina being in purgatory," said Abbie slowly, thinking back to their one and only link to the Anima. "Said he'd seen our lives, our future in some kind of vision."

Ichabod frowned. "Did he speak of anything else?"

Abbie hesitated.

"Miss Mills?"

"He said you were going to betray me and then kill yourself out of guilt," said Abbie unhappily.

Ichabod's frown deepened. "Why did you not tell me of this immediately?" he demanded to know.

"Because I thought it was ridiculous."

"It is ridiculous," said Ichabod in agitation, "but the talk of me betraying you mirrors closely the predictions Moloch has made and they are worthy of some discussion, wouldn't you agree?"

"Only if you think it could happen," she threw back defensively.

"Of course I do not believe it is possible but we must be honest with one another." Ichabod grimaced. "And to that end I must confess something Mr. Duncan conveyed to me that I have not passed onto you in its entirety."

"What, when he whispered in your ear?"

"Yes, he said your blood would be on my hands and that you were dying before my eyes but I couldn't see."

"Well… crap," said Abbie, a little stunned. "We kind of dropped the ball on this one, didn't we?"

"Lamentably, I believe we have greatly limited ourselves in not being wholly honest with one another," agreed Ichabod in frustration.

"Okay, how about this, from now on, full disclosure, no matter what?" offered up Abbie. She stuck out her hand to him. "Deal?"

"We are of one accord on the matter." Ichabod went to take her hand but hesitated, eyeing the tubes running into the back of her hand with real worry. "I fear I might injure you further if we seal our understanding with a handshake, Lieutenant."

Abbie kept her hand reached out to him but just stuck out her index finger instead. "ET me then."

"Miss Mills," groaned Ichabod, "why must you insist on addressing me with such an unintelligible manner of speech that—"

"Touch your finger to mine and we've made an agreement," she interrupted him. "Okay?"

Ichabod hesitated for the briefest of moments but then he was extending his own index finger and pressing it against hers. "Is this the minikin adaptation of the fist bump?" he wanted to know.

"No, the fist bump was about winning, this can be about agreeing on something." Abbie let her hand drop away. "No more secrets."

Ichabod inclined his head, a small smile on his lips. "Indeed, no more secrets."

There was a short knock on the door and then Dr Ross appeared in the doorway. He smiled at them both. "Just hoping to have a quick word with my patient, if that's okay?"

Abbie nodded. "Sure."

Dr Ross was looking at Ichabod. "In private, if you don't mind."

Abbie saw Ichabod hesitate. "I'm really hungry. Am I allowed to eat?"

"Of course," said the doctor quickly. "Just nothing too heavy."

Abbie looked at Ichabod expectantly. "Do you mind getting me something?"

"What do you feel like?" asked Ichabod.

"Food."

"A suitably broad net to cast." He went to leave. "I will return promptly."

"I guess I'll be here," she looked at the doctor who nodded. Abbie made a resigned face. "I'll be here." Abbie watched Ichabod leave and then she had a few questions for the doctor, mainly revolving around when she could get the heck out of this place. There was a war going on and she was feeling like cannon fodder right then and Abbie had had enough.

#

Jenny impatiently hit out at the side of the coffee machine. "Come on," she growled. "I gave you your money, now it's your turn." She smacked the side of the dispenser again, happy to have something to take her ire out on. "Stupid machine!"

"I tasted that coffee," said a voice behind her. "Trust me, it's doing you a favor."

Jenny swung around and glared at Irving. "I don't recall asking your opinion."

Irving arched an eyebrow at her tone and held out the cup of coffee he was holding. "Here, you have this, you sound like you need it more. It's from the coffee shop next door and probably won't kill you instantly." He nodded at the hospital coffee machine. "Unlike that stuff."

Jenny begrudgingly accepted the cup of coffee. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. "It's got sugar in it."

"Well, technically that was my coffee, so yeah, it's going to have sugar in it." He half-smiled. "And you're welcome."

"Sorry," muttered Jenny, "I'm not in a great mood."

Irving frowned. "Is everything okay with your sister?"

"Of course it is," said Jenny sweetly, "good old Ichabod Crane is on the job. No one else need to bother to care as long as the two Witnesses are together."

"So, what, Crane has managed to piss you off too?" Irving shook his head. "What's up with this guy? Is he on some kind of spree when it comes to upsetting women lately?"

"I'm not upset!" snapped Jenny.

Irving gave her a pointed look. "Clearly."

Jenny blew out a noisy breath of frustration. "It's just that I'm her sister, you know? You'd think my opinion would count for something."

"Your opinion about what?"

"The doctors want to do more tests on Abbie to make sure there isn't something really wrong with her and I think she should. I know a lot of weird stuff goes on in this town but people still get sick too. What's the harm in making sure?"

"But Abbie doesn't want to, I'm guessing?"

"No," said Jenny bitterly, "Crane doesn't think it's necessary so she isn't doing it."

Irving tilted his head and eyed her intently. "Do you really think Abbie is letting Crane make up her mind for her? Granted, I haven't known your sister as long as you have, but she doesn't strike me as someone who takes orders that well." He pulled a face. "And speaking as her commanding officer, that's kind of a pain in my ass."

Jenny knew what Irving was saying was true but she was still upset. "What if there is something physically wrong with her and we just ignore it and–and—" She couldn't finish her sentence. "Abbie's not well, whatever the reason. She's tired and obviously not always in her right mind these days. I just don't know if she's up to making the best call for herself at the moment." Jenny blew out a short, frustrated breath. "I just feel so helpless."

"How about this idea? Seeing as you don't feel like you can help here, how about we get back to checking on the possibly location of the Anima on that list of yours?"

Jenny frowned. "You think?" She looked back uncertainly down the hall towards Abbie's room.

"Look, your sister is in good hands and we'll make sure they have your phone number in case something happens. I doubt Crane is going to go anywhere so all of us standing around, annoying each other, isn't going to help anyone with anything."

Jenny didn't want to leave Abbie but she really didn't want to stand around and play third wheel either. And actually doing something which could shed some light on this mess sounded like a good idea to her. "Okay, yeah, let's do that."

Irving was looking over her shoulder now. "Incoming."

Jenny turned around to see Ichabod walking down the corridor towards them.

"Excuse me, Miss Jenny, might I have a private word with you?"

She pressed her lips together tightly. "What's the point?"

"The point is I wish to make amends for earlier," said Ichabod sincerely. "It was not my intent to upset you, or indeed dismiss your concerns."

"So, what, you're saying I'm right now?" she challenged him. "That Abbie should get more tests done?"

"No," said Ichabod without hesitation, "I am correct in my assessment of the situation."

"Excuse me?" snapped Jenny. "How can you know that?"

Irving sighed heavily. "I'm not going to have to referee a throw down between the two of you now, am I? Because if I do, y'all have to wait up while I go get my whistle from the car."

"We are not 'throwing down'," said Ichabod in distaste. "My intent is not to inflame the situation any further, but simply to reconcile our differences on this matter, for the sake of your sister."

"Because it's all about Abbie for you, isn't it?" bit out Jenny.

"Heads up, Crane," interjected Irving swiftly, "there is no right answer to that question."

"I am concerned for her wellbeing, certainly," said Ichabod a little stiffly. "I do not understand your issue with such a preoccupation on my behalf."

"Pearls before swine," sighed Irving as Ichabod ignored his warning.

"I just don't know why it is that you think you can just appear on the scene and suddenly think you're running the show," said Jenny angrily. "Abbie is my sister. She's all that I have in this world. What is she even to you? I love her. Can you say the same?"

"Uh oh, warning Will Robinson," muttered Irving under his breath, shaking his head. "I don't like where this is going."

"My affections for Miss Mills are not open for debate or scrutiny," said Ichabod sharply. "And I will not have them called into question by anyone, not even you. And might I say your current behavior is bordering on petulance and frankly, is unbecoming."

Irving stepped closer, taking the cup of coffee from Jenny's hand after seeing the way her eyes narrowed menacingly at Ichabod's chastisement of her. "And with that little gem out there, I think it's time to remove all hot liquids from this conversation."

"You're a pompous ass, you know that?" said Jenny furiously.

"I am merely being reasonable and would ask you to follow suit," said Ichabod coolly.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!"

"Okay enough!" said Irving sharply. "You both care about Abbie in your own way and want what is best for her." He looked between them. "Now, discuss, like grownups." He held up the cup in his hand. "In the meantime, I'm going to find a place that will Irish up my coffee here and help me take the edge off being reduced to playing the token black guy in an episode of Days Of Our Lives." He held up a warning hand to Ichabod. "And I know you don't get that reference but trust me, it was pithy and funny, so just roll with it, okay?" Irving glared at them both. "And sort yourselves out. I did not sign up to listen to you lot bitch and moan at each other. I got better things to do with my Saturday, like rearranging my sock drawer." He looked at Ichabod. "You're pushing three hundred years old – act like it." Next was Jenny. "I'll see you in the car when you're done. Just everyone try and remember we're on the same team here, okay?" Irving stalked off, grumbling under his breath. "Graduate top of my class to end up nurse maiding a bunch of lunatics. Livin' the dream, Irving, livin' the dream."

Ichabod watched the other man leave and made a regretful face. "I fear the Captain has a point. We are both behaving rather unbecomingly."

"Would you please stop it with the feeling like you can talk for everyone?" asked Jenny sourly. "I'll decide if my behavior is unbecoming or not."

Ichabod sighed. "My apologies, Miss Jenny. My intent is not to inflame this situation further. I wish only to broker a peace between us. Captain Irving is correct. We both want the same thing."

Jenny held his gaze unflinchingly. "You see, that's what I'm not so sure of."

Ichabod frowned slightly. "I'm sorry?"

"I want my sister alive and in my life because I love her and she's my family." Jenny shook her head at him. "You want to know why I think you want her alive?" Ichabod's frown deepened but Jenny didn't give him time to answer. "A partnership with my sister is your best chance of getting your wife back. She's a means to an ends for you."

Ichabod gave a little gasp of disbelief. "That is an utter untruth," he bit out. "My affection for Miss Mills and care for her wellbeing are totally separate to my longing to be reunited with Katrina."

Jenny arched an eyebrow. "You real sure about that? I mean, you two, you may as well be married with how tight you are. Maybe Abbie's your back up plan all round? She's like having a wife but you don't have to commit anything to her. You're having your cake and eating it too."

Ichabod looked like he was floundering to find his next words, an unusual state for the usual fast thinking man. "You think my intent is to ensnare your sister in some kind of clandestine relationship because I am currently separated from my wife?" he asked in outrage.

"I don't know if you've thought about it like that but I think that is what is happening," said Jenny unrepentantly. "You're making her rely on you more and more each day and I think things are going to get blurry, if they haven't already."

"That is not true," insisted Ichabod. "Indeed, look at the falling out we had this very day. Miss Mill's was not inclined to listen to a word I had to say."

"Yeah, she was mad, madder than I've seen her in a long time," agreed Jenny, "but when she was scared and lost, she called you. No one else. Even though she wanted to kill you a few hours earlier, you were still her first thought."

Ichabod looked taken aback by that statement.

"And you know," continued on Jenny, "I have to wonder, if you do get Katrina back at some point down the road, just how she's going to feel about this thing you and Abbie have going on between you?"

"There is no romantic entanglement between the Lieutenant and myself," said Ichabod unevenly.

"There are all kinds of entanglements out there, some of them way stronger than romantic ones," pointed out Jenny. "All I know is that when you two are together, you're in your own little world and it can be real hard for the rest of us to work out where we're meant to fit in with that and you're fooling yourself if you think that when you get Katrina back she isn't going to have the same problem the rest of us do." She was a little breathless after blurting out all of that but Jenny actually felt better after having gotten everything she'd been bottling up off her chest.

Ichabod looked stunned. "I-I don't know what to say to that."

"First time for everything," said Jenny dryly. She watched him walk over to a nearby chair and take a seat, looking a little dazed. Jenny couldn't help but relent a little when she saw how much she'd shaken him. "Look, I don't mean to be a bitch about this whole thing. It's just, I'm calling it like I see it." She walked over and took a seat beside him. "I worry about Abbie, okay? I don't want anything bad to happen to her, not if I can do something about it."

Ichabod turned to look at her, a grimacing smile on his lips. "I know. You're a good sister who clearly cares very much for Abbie. I did not mean to imply otherwise. I can be rather unswerving when an idea comes into my head and I apologize."

"But you still don't think you're wrong, do you?" asked Jenny wryly.

"No, not about the cause of the Lieutenant's malady but I was very wrong to make you feel discounted or excluded in anyway." Ichabod shook his head at her. "That was not my intent and never would be."

Jenny leaned her head back against the wall. "I know, that's what makes you so damn annoying. You're always so sincere and earnest."

Ichabod half-smiled. "You would wish me to be insincere and apathetic?"

"Can't you just find some kind of happy medium, like the rest of us?" she asked in exasperation.

"I must confess I struggle somewhat to know what is expected of me in this world," he said quietly. "Your concerns about your sister and myself, I wish I could give you solace on the matter but I fear I have none to offer." Ichabod made a helpless hand gesture. "I do not know if there is a word to encompass what we are. I do not know the boundaries we should employ when it comes to one another. I have no answers to your questions. Indeed, I had not even considered there to be such questions between the Lieutenant and myself before this moment. But what I do know is that Abbie needs you in a way she could never need me. Our past defines us, you define her, Miss Jenny, beyond her calling as a Witness, beyond anything else. I do not look to break the bonds of sisterhood between you. I am in awe of such devotion between you both and know that it only brings strength and determination to your characters."

"We fight all the time," said Jenny uncomfortably.

"You fight because you care," said Ichabod simply. "And you care all the time."

Jenny made a face. "You're doing it again, being all sincerely earnest."

Ichabod smiled. "A thousand apologies, Miss Jenny. Perhaps it is the company I keep which makes me strive to be worthy of their time."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "You're a real smooth operator, aren't you?"

"All I know is that I wish very much for us to part as friends this night," said Ichabod honestly. "I do not wish to leave another friend tonight on unhappy terms, fearful that I may not have time to make things right between us before a tragedy strikes."

Jenny stared at Ichabod and found it hard to remain mad at him. "Okay, sure, yes, we're fine."

"Please know that I will be keeping a close eye on your sister and will strive to watch over her wellbeing with ardent intent."

"I know you will, just leave a little room for the rest of us, okay?"

Ichabod inclined his head. "Of course."

"How about a safe word when you're getting too up in Abbie's business?"

Ichabod blinked. "Excuse me?"

"If I think you're taking over too much or you two are drifting off in your own little world, I say a word that tells you that it's happening."

"And what manner of word would this be?"

Jenny thought about that. "It can't be too common. How about kiwi fruit?"

"What is kiwi fruit?"

"A type of furry, green fruit."

"Oh." Ichabod gave her a sideways look. "And the use of this word would make you feel like you had a voice in the Lieutenant's and myself's relationship?"

Jenny shrugged. "It wouldn't hurt."

"Very well," he agreed, "kiwi fruit it is."

Jenny smiled, knowing Ichabod was still a little confused by the concept but had to give him some credit that he was willing to go along with it all. She just hoped he really did go away and think about the concerns she'd voiced about him and Abbie. Jenny couldn't help but worry about what kind of future lay ahead for both of them. Whatever it was going to be, it wasn't going to be an uncomplicated one.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N****: Thank you as always to those who reviewed the last chapter and I just wanted to give a shout out to rosylips and her reviews which I can't answer to directly but I have to agree – I love Jenny too, she is a wonderful character which I very much enjoy writing for. Heck, all the characters are made of awesome to me! ;) **

**Now, having said that, I have to say I don't know if I've done this chapter any kind of real justice. I'm not entirely happy with it for some reason. We're not actually that far from the end of the story, if you can believe that, so I've got a lot of ground to cover coming up, so maybe I'm feeling a bit daunted by that. Anyways, I hope this chapter isn't a complete fail for folks and I've got some working out to do with the next chapter, so hopefully that won't hold things up too much. **

**Thank you all for reading and hope to see you in the next chapter. **

**Toodles…**

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

Irving made a face as he held the torch for Jenny. "Can you hurry this up a bit, Mills? I can't avert my eyes forever."

"This lock hasn't been used for a while," said Jenny through gritted teeth. "Picking it isn't that easy."

"You're not picking a lock in the presence of a serving police officer. You're inspecting it for faults to find that it's not working properly and then the onus is on us to check that nothing has been disturbed inside."

Jenny's lips twitched as she worked the lock pick. "That's pretty good. You should write kid's books."

"Yeah, the popup book of 'Captain Irving Goes to the Big House' would be a real page turner." He sighed. _When did this become his life?_

Jenny gave a little laugh. "Heck, I'd buy that book."

"Of course you would."

Jenny finally managed to get the lock undone and she quickly finished, opening the door of the garage workshop. They both drew out flashlights, not wanting to turn on lights to advertise the fact they were walking around 'Enus' Garage' in the middle of the night without a warrant.

Jenny looked around at the car wrecks collecting dust and the general state of disrepair the whole work space offered. "How long ago did you say this play shut down again?"

"About a year." Irving walked around, shining his flashlight over all of the cobweb covered surfaces. "Don't know why they went out of business."

"Maybe because the 'E' on the front sign looks like an 'A'?"

Irving wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, that was unfortunate. I don't even want to think about what an anus garage would involve."

"Something with a lot of hand washing, I'm guessing."

"One could only hope." Irving turned around on the spot. "I suppose we should be systematic about this. You take the left side, I'll take the right. We'll meet in the middle. A big ass, gold bible is probably going to stand out a bit."

"You'd think." Jenny walked over to the far wall where there were several rows of shelves bolted to the wall with all manner of equipment and containers shoved onto it. "Although, I'm guessing this book is something Duncan would have wanted to hide well. From what Abbie and Crane told me, the guy was really afraid of anyone finding it."

Irving pulled out a large metal box from under a bench top and opened it. He started sorting through the drills and socket wrenches, digging his way to the bottom. "You and Crane sort out your differences?"

"I think our problem is what we have in common." There was the sound of Jenny moving things around. "We kind of agreed to disagree and let Abbie make her own choices. And for Crane to stop being such a control freak when it comes to my sister."

Irving didn't find anything in the metal box, so he moved on to the one sitting next to it. "I think that's going to be hard for him." He suddenly felt Jenny's flashlight shining in his eyes. Irving put up a hand to shield his eyes. "Do you mind?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean stop shining that damn light in my eyes." Irving batted at the air.

Jenny dropped the light away. "No, I mean about it being hard for Crane to let go when it comes to Abbie. You're a guy, from your point of view, what do you think Crane is thinking is going on there?"

Irving continued searching the box he was crouched over. "I think Crane is a guy hopelessly in love with a wife stuck in purgatory and two centuries out of his comfort zone. I think that damn coat of his, his role as a Witness with your sister and the hope of finding Katrina are the things he hangs onto for dear life because they represent the past, present and future to him, in that order. I think asking him to loosen his grip on any one of those three things is unrealistic." He straightened up, dusting the dirt off his knees. "That's what I think."

Jenny frowned. "But you get why I'm worried, right?"

Irving gave a short nod. "I get it."

"I just want to know I'm not going to lose my sister again in all of this and that she's going to be alright." Jenny shook her head in frustration. "I know she hasn't processed any of this properly yet. If Crane is right and she doesn't have leukemia, the next stop is that she is being controlled by outside forces, demon possessed. Abbie isn't going to handle that well. She really needs to be in control all of the time and that is going to mess with her head and I should know, I've been demon possessed myself and it sucks donkey balls. I know what she's going through. Crane is just trying to work out how to fix the demon possession he believes to be the problem and I get that, I really do. What he doesn't get though is that Abbie needs a lot more than just an exorcism. This is going to stay with her for a long time. Having something else walking around in your body, doing things with it you don't have any control over, it does something to you. Neither one of them are prepared for the fallout from that."

Irving cocked his head and regarded the young woman carefully after that passionate outburst. "Then that is where you come in."

Jenny grunted. "If they'll let me. Those two, they think all their answers lie in one another. That they'll figure it all out just the two of them." She jabbed an imperious finger at him. "And I'm _not_ jealous. I'm just stating a fact."

"Then it's lucky for Abbie you're not the shy retiring type." Irving's look became pointed. "You do what you got to for family. At some point Abbie is going to realize she can't deal with this on her own and you can be there for her. It may not be on your time schedule but if you really care, that isn't the point."

Jenny stared at him for a long moment. "Okay, that advice didn't completely suck."

"Didn't completely suck?" Irving snorted. "Woman, I Yoda-ed the hell outta that conversation."

"Ease on off on the self-congratulatory pats on the back there, Jedi Master," said Jenny dryly. "You just kind of stated the obvious."

Irving smirked slightly. "It's funny how something becomes obvious _after_ someone else comes up with it."

"Smug isn't a good color on you, ages you horribly."

"Don't be all up in my thang just because I can see the woods for the trees." Irving pursed his lips. "Okay, so, we're having a moment here, right?"

Jenny rolled her eyes. "If you want to call it that."

"And people having moments tell each other things, correct?"

Jenny's expression became suspicious. "Why do I suddenly not like where this is going?"

"I helped you out, how about you satisfy my curiosity about something?"

Jenny's eyes narrowed. "Go on."

"When you were trying to get your sister to wake up in the woods, you mentioned a scarred butt story."

"I'm not telling you that story," said Jenny quickly. "Abbie would kill me. I mean she would literally kill me."

Irving waved a hand at her. "I don't want that story. I want the one where Abbie threatened to tell about you and the squirrel incident." Now he shone his flashlight in Jenny's eyes. "What's the 411 on the squirrel incident, Mills? You owe me."

Jenny squinted into the light. "Stop that."

"Tell me the story and I'll consider it."

Jenny heaved a loud sigh. "Okay, so there was this incident… and it involved me… and a squirrel... and they all lived happily ever after."

Irving dropped his light away from her face. "That's it?"

"Yup."

"I feel like I just watched a Nicholas Cage movie. I expected a whole lot more and I'm still left with a lot of questions, not all of them relating to his bad hairpiece." He inclined his head. "Although most of them are."

"You wanted the story, that's it." Jenny's flashlight moved around the room. "Now, let's get back to finding this bible. I'm not looking for a girlfriend to share my secrets with and braid each other's hair."

"Well, if I'm looking for a sarcastic smart mouth, I know where to come."

Jenny was back searching her side of the garage. "You watch Nicolas Cage movies, you don't get to judge me."

"He draws me in with 'Con Air' and 'The Rock' but then he kicks me in the crotch with 'Ghost Rider 1&2' and 'The Wicker Man'."

"Oh my God, you watched both Ghost Riders? What are you, a sucker for punishment?"

"I just didn't think it was physically possible 2 could be as bad as 1."

Jenny snorted. "Now you know different."

"Yeah," sighed Irving, re-starting his search again, "now I know." He turned around to look at her again, a thought occurring to him. "Hey, you're throwing shade at me for those movies but how do you know that those movies are so bad if you haven't watched them too?"

"I don't have to lick a dog's butt to know it's going to be disgusting and you're going to feel all kinds of dirty afterwards."

"Okay, that's the most singularly disturbing thing I've ever heard… and I've sat in the same room interviewing racist hate crime killers."

Jenny grinned at him. "Glad I could set a new bar for you, Captain."

"Why did I have to get the crazy sister?" he grumbled, feigning annoyance.

"Because you got lucky. Now, let's try and find this bible so we can get out of here. I want to grab some dinner. I could eat a horse."

"I may never eat again after that dog butt conversation. This evening has resulted in a lot more butt talk then I'd originally anticipated."

"Toughen up, princess."

Irving looked up at the ceiling. "Lord, give me strength."

#

Abbie looked up as Ichabod entered the room. "Did you find Jenny?"

"Yes and I made my peace with her," said Ichabod as he walked further into the room. "She accepted my apology and is currently with the Captain."

"Oh, okay." Abbie knew Jenny had a sensitive spot when it came to her and Ichabod but she really did feel like having more tests would help the situation. Something she'd made very clear to the disapproving Doctor Ross.

"Miss Jenny said she would return later this evening to see you."

"She's not mad at me?"

"She is concerned for your wellbeing, as we all are."

"As long as she's not mad," said Abbie with a sigh. "We're still working out our relationship. It's not all rainbows and unicorns."

"Family rarely is," said Ichabod wryly.

"Did you find some food? I'm starving."

"The matter is open to debate." Ichabod gingerly held up the plastic encased sandwiches between two fingers, a look of disdain on his face. "This item boasted of being a cheese sandwich but I am yet to be convinced of the validity of such an assertion." He grimaced as he looked at the sandwich more closely. "Indeed, this so-called cheese looks like no cheese I have ever encountered before. I hesitate to even endorse its claim of being edible."

"It's processed cheese," said Abbie indulgently.

"Processed cheese." Ichabod gave a little shudder. "Even the very name inspires a desolation of the soul but it was knowing your inexplicable fondness for such an abomination I went against my better judgment and procured you this item."

Abbie tried to hide her smile at listening to another tirade from Ichabod about the latest thing which offended his sensibilities. He somehow managed to make processed cheese sound like it was a hate crime. Abbie would never admit it to him, but she did find his off-tangent rants pretty entertaining. "Just give me the damn sandwich, Crane," she ordered him in amusement, holding out her hand.

Ichabod picked up the empty plate which was on her hospital bedside table. "We are not yet savages, Lieutenant. Let me at least supply you with this nourishment on a plate. It will not make up for the undoubted impending disappointment of flavors but at least some modicum of respectability may be afforded to the endeavor."

Abbie watched Ichabod struggle to work out the plastic tabs on the tightly sealed sandwiches, his frustration obvious. She held out her hand, wiggling her fingers at him. "Here, give it to me. It's like watching a horse trying to apply eyeliner when it comes to you and packaging of any description." Ichabod made a pouty face but handed over the stubborn pack of sandwiches to her. Abbie easily found the tab and released it, freeing the sandwiches inside.

An annoyed noise escaped his lips as Ichabod handed her the plate to put the food onto. "Unnecessarily complicated," he complained under his breath.

"You know, you're the smartest guy I know," said Abbie teasingly. "You speak all those languages, you're an Oxford professor, you've got that photographic memory thing going for you and yet, when it comes to plastic wraps and containers, you're the village idiot. I know you're not even trying to figure out how to deal with them. What gives?"

Ichabod pressed his lips together in a display of ire. "I do not wish to give thought to the intricacies of such plastic chicaneries, as in doing so I provide tacit endorsement of what they stand for," he said heatedly. "The packaging of your era would be a source of amusement if it were not such a death knoll for the very planet which sustains us all."

"Okay," said Abbie slowly, her lips twitching, "so, you're not ever going to work out how to open airline food because you're taking a stand against worldwide consumerism and marketing?"

"Yes," said Ichabod coolly. "I will not be a silent partner in their undertakings to denude this earth of all of the bounty she offers us."

Abbie gave a little laugh, unable to help herself at being entertained by the level of his outrage over a cheese sandwich plastic container. "No one could ever accuse you of being a silent partner in anything, Crane."

Ichabod made a stained face at her gentle ribbing of him. "Please forgive my current cheerless state, Miss Mills. It is not my intention to direct my melancholia at you." He gave a disparaging look at the sandwich she was now eating. "Or even such an ill-fated attempt at sustenance." Ichabod looked back at her, his face clouding over. "Indeed, my disconsolation is reserved for myself and myself alone." He clasped his hands behind his back and straightened up, his face clouding over in abject seriousness. "I have failed you both as your counterpart on this strange journey on which we find ourselves and as your friend. So consumed was I by my own addled state, I was unable to see the danger befalling you before my very eyes. I do not deserve your forgiveness on this matter. I have floundered in my endeavors to be worthy of the calling of Witness and to claim you as friend."

Abbie watched Ichabod's face during his little speech and could see how sorry he was but that didn't stop her from shaking her head at him. "Sometimes you're such a guy," she said wryly and took a bite of her sandwich.

Ichabod stiffened a little and frowned down at her. "Your meaning being?"

"Something happens to me and you make it all about you," she said around her mouthful of processed cheese and bread.

Ichabod's frown deepened into a scowl. "That is not my intent."

"Crane, all this stuff was going on inside of me and I didn't even notice," said Abbie in exasperation. "Me, the person it was actually happening to. If you dropped the ball, I dropped the whole football team!" She wrinkled her nose. "We're both as bad as each other for not seeing what was right in front of us but if there is blame to be given in this whole thing then it should be directed at me. I knew something was off, I was losing time, I felt so tired all the time, but I just didn't want to deal with it." Abbie gnawed the inside of her lip as she thought about another subject that she didn't want to deal with. "I-I need to ask you a question, Crane and you have to be honest with me."

"Most assuredly," said Ichabod quickly, "full disclosure, as agreed, but first, may I please say something?"

Abbie lifted one shoulder. "Okay."

Ichabod looked away briefly before looking back at her with an expression of quiet distress coming over his face. "When we last spoke—"

"We don't have to talk about that," said Abbie quickly. "It wasn't exactly our finest hour." She really didn't want to think about what they'd said to each other during that fight. Abbie was very ashamed of the things she'd said to him in the heat of the moment.

"Indeed," said Ichabod unhappily, "but please allow me to speak on this matter, Miss Mills. During the course of that conversation I declared myself to be neither a child nor imbecilic in nature but I fear I behaved as both with my words to you." He looked at her with real contrition. "I am most apologetic of the way I spoke to you. My words did not in any way convey my utmost respect and admiration for your personage. I can offer no defense of my behavior and would not deem to disrespect you further by even attempting to do so."

"I said some pretty horrible things too," said Abbie unhappily. "I'm really sorry about that necrophilia comment. That was a low blow."

A strained smile came to Ichabod's lips. "We cannot always help how we feel, Lieutenant. We shall speak on that subject no more."

"But that isn't how I feel," protested Abbie.

He looked at her with a trace of hope. "It isn't?"

"Of course not," said Abbie in exasperation. "I just really wanted to hurt you because you were freaking me the hell out."

"I see," said Ichabod slowly.

"Look, Crane, you really blind-sided me with all of that stuff you were saying. I needed for you to be crazy because I didn't want what you were saying to be true." Abbie's expression became pensive. "But it was true, wasn't it?"

"Yes," said Ichabod quietly, "it was."

Abbie swallowed hard. "Okay, I think we need to talk then."

Ichabod looked a little nervous but he nodded. "Of course." He drew up a seat next to the bed and sat down. Ichabod sat stiffly in the chair, hands on knees and looking like he was about to face down a firing squad. She knew how he felt.

Abbie had been struggling to know how much she wanted to know about what had happened between the two of them while she'd been checked out of her body. A part of her just wanted to pretend it had never happened and never speak of it again. But then, it was a really weird feeling to know Ichabod had all of these inappropriate memories of them being together and she had none. And the level of intimacy also concerned Abbie. Ichabod was obviously more than a little disconcerted by the whole thing himself but things sometimes got lost in translation between them. He referred to the things which had gone on between them as 'intimacies' and despite all of her misgivings, Abbie really needed to know what he meant by that. "I need to know what exactly happened between us," she said unevenly. Abbie gave him a fearful look. "I mean, we didn't… ah… umm… you know—"

Ichabod's eyes went wide. "No, absolutely not!" he exclaimed.

"Thank God," breathed Abbie in relief and then couldn't help but be slightly annoyed. "You don't have to sound so horrified about the idea. I'm not a fate worse than death."

"I did not mean to imply that," said Ichabod hastily. "It's just that I do not wish you to think that I would have allowed things to progress to that point between us, for both of our sakes."

"On that subject, just how far did things 'progress' between us?" Abbie held her breath and braced herself.

"It was nothing," said Ichabod uncomfortably.

"It wasn't nothing."

"No, very well, it wasn't nothing," he said unhappily.

"Then what kind of something was it?" Abbie grimaced at him. "Please don't make this harder than it already is, Crane. How far did we get, first base, second? If you say third base, I'm going to kill myself."

Ichabod hesitated, looking confused. "I may require some help in answering that question, Lieutenant. What do these bases consist of precisely?"

"Kissing is first base," she said tightly. "I know that happened." Abbie gave him a warning look. "And don't you dare mention my tongue to me ever again, you hear me? My tongue is off limits to you."

"Most assuredly, your tongue shall never pass my lips again," he agreed swiftly and then looked a little stricken. "Not that I'm referring to it having passed my lips previously… even though it did, but that wasn't what I meant to say." His look of panic deepened. "That is to say—"

"I am literally seconds away from choking you with my IV," ground out Abbie, unable to help the way her cheeks were heating from embarrassment.

Ichabod's expression was forlorn. "And it would be a great kindness on your behalf for you to do such a thing," he said, obviously as rattled as she was.

"Okay, so, we kissed a couple of times," said Abbie, trying to just get this over with. "But nothing else, right?"

"Ah… there may have been some touching." Ichabod looked like he wanted to run out the door screaming.

"Please God tell me it was above the waist?" said Abbie faintly.

"Well… you were straddling me in the backseat of a patrol car at the time…"

She buried her face in her hands. "Oh God, I feel like I'm getting you to point out on a doll where the bad man touched you and I'm that bad man." Abbie wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

"Miss Mills, look at me."

"I'm never looking at you again. You're going to have to wear a bag over your head for me to ever speak to you again."

"Miss Mills… Abbie…"

She felt his hands encircle her wrist and gently pull away her hands from her face. Abbie still refused to look at him though, keeping her eyes fixed on the sheets of her bed.

"Listen to me, what happened was not your fault," said Ichabod earnestly, "and if there is any culpability to be attributed to the situation, it falls entirely on my shoulders. You were an innocent in all of this."

Abbie looked up into those sincere blue eyes, unable to contain herself. "I basically sexually assaulted you," she said in distress. "How am I meant to live with that?"

"You did nothing," said Ichabod firmly. "The entity inside of you forced you into service for its own malicious reasons. The only victim here is you and I would do anything to have that not be the case. You have nothing to apologize for and I have everything."

Abbie wanted to believe him but it was hard. "You were just sitting there, minding your own business and then suddenly you're having to deal with some crazy, oversexed woman. It's not right, Crane."

"No, it isn't but it is not your fault and you were not that woman."

Abbie closed her eyes. "But you have all of these memories of me… me… being like that and I have nothing. I don't know how either one of us is meant to deal with that and move forward properly." She felt the bed dip as Ichabod left his chair and sat on the bed beside her. His hand cup her face and gently stroke her still pale cheek with his thumb.

"Here is what I know. I have never kissed Miss Grace Abigail Mills because she was not present in those moments. You are more than your body. The real Abigail Mills is a soul of light, fierce determination and loyalty. I know nothing of her in those moments because it was not her soul which was kissing me."

Abbie reluctantly opened her eyes, touched by the sentiment Ichabod was trying to convey but still struggling. "It still feels weird," she whispered shakily.

"So many things between us are odd and hard to explain but we have found a way to incorporate them into our partnership." Ichabod gave an uneven smile, his face close to hers. "And I know we may negotiate a path to absorb this latest strangeness between us and move forward in our quest. If that is what you wish to happen between us."

Ichabod was looking at her intently, as though he was worried about what her answer might be to that scenario he'd posed.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Abbie gave a little start and Ichabod immediately fell away from her face as they both turned their heads to see Luke standing there with a large bouquet of flowers. He was looking between them, a vaguely suspicious look on his face.

"N-no, of course not," said Abbie hastily as Ichabod stood up from her bed.

"Detective Morales," said Ichabod, inclining his head. "Good evening."

"I just wanted to check on the patient," Luke said, eyes on Abbie. "How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"You are most assuredly not fine, Lieutenant," disagreed Ichabod, "but you are in safe hands."

Luke was staring at him now. "And whose hands would they be, Crane? Yours?" he asked a little accusatorily.

"I was referring to this medical institutions, of course," said Ichabod a little stiffly. "They have been most attentive."

"Oh yeah," said Luke with vague sarcasm, "I'm definitely getting an attentive vibe from this room."

Abbie saw Ichabod narrow his eyes a little and quickly intervened. "Are those flowers for me?"

Luke walked up to the bed and handed them to her. "Yes, I got your favorites, anything yellow."

Abbie inhaled the mixed bouquet of flowers and smiled at him. "They're beautiful, thank you." She looked up at Ichabod. "Crane, do you mind finding me a vase for these, please?" Abbie didn't particularly want the two men in the same room together as she knew Luke wasn't exactly sold on Ichabod and the cover story they'd created for him.

Ichabod gave a little bow. "Of course. I shall be back promptly."

"Don't rush on our account," said Luke flatly.

Ichabod arched an eyebrow at the other man but didn't offer up any other comment. He turned to leave but Abbie stalled him. "Crane?"

Ichabod turned back around.

"I wish," she said simply in answer to his previous question. Abbie wasn't sure exactly how she was really going to get past this whole thing properly but she wanted to try.

Relief flooded Ichabod's face and he smiled back at her, nodding his head before leaving the room.

"What do you wish?" asked Luke, eyes on her face.

"I wish I had another cheese sandwich," hedged Abbie, holding up the almost eaten sandwich. "I'm still hungry." Luke didn't look convinced but she wasn't about to delve into the intricacies of what she and Ichabod had been talking about and the understanding they'd just reached.

Like her life wasn't complicated enough as it was.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N****: Thank you to everyone who gave me encouragement for the last chapter. I really appreciated it. :D **

**This chapter is another one which has a high emotional element to it with some conceptual stuff I kind of worked out to add to some SH canon. Sorry, that's probably a bit nonsensical to say. Hopefully you'll know what I mean when you read it and you won't find it too boring. **

**Things are about to get a bit full on, so enjoy this quiet moment while it lasts. **

**See you in the next chapter…**

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

"You're quiet."

Ichabod turned his head from where he'd been staring out the hospital window to the moonlight streets below. "I thought you were sleeping." He'd been lost in his own thoughts, unable to help but ponder all that Jenny had said to him earlier. Her questions had been ticking over in his mind and in the quiet of night Ichabod had finally allowed himself to truly consider all that she'd said to him.

Abbie made a face. "I'm a little bit worried about sleeping," she confessed. "It feels like the Sandman all over again. Only this time, when I'm asleep, I don't know what the heck I'm doing or what is being done to me."

"And that is why I sit watch over you, Lieutenant," said Ichabod reassuringly. "To ensure you are not spirited away by any malevolent force again."

"You don't have to you know," she said quietly. "The Captain has posted Deputies on the door to the ICU to make sure I don't go wandering again."

"Whilst I do not doubt Carl and Mike's dedication to their profession, I doubt it would rival my devotion to you, Miss Mills. I am by your side permanently from this juncture forward, so, I recommend you making your peace on the matter."

"That's going to make my next OBGYN appointment pretty awkward," noted Abbie, straight-faced.

Ichabod arched an eyebrow at her. "Whilst I do not know of this OBGYN to which you refer, I gather you are making a quip at the expense of the declaration of my intent to not leave your side until this matter is dealt with."

"You gather correctly," said Abbie wryly. "Crane, seriously, this is just overkill. You need to get some rest too otherwise you'll end up in a hospital bed next to me." She looked at the cot the nursing staff had provided for Ichabod already and wrinkled her nose. "Which I kind of guess has already happened." Abbie gave him a curious look. "How come they're letting you stay over with me again?"

"Miss Jenny informed them I was your partner and that knowledge has afforded me certain rights," he said simply.

"Oh, right, look, Crane," said Abbie uncomfortably, "I know when Jenny said that to the staff, you were thinking she was telling them that we were partners in a platonic sense but they think she meant partners as in the fact we're, you know, together… umm, romantically."

"I have long since gleaned the duality of the meaning of the word 'partners' in this century, Lieutenant, please do not feel the need to try and explain." Ichabod understood her discomfort considering the awkwardness of the conversation they'd shared earlier that evening but it was unnecessary in this instance.

"Oh," said Abbie in surprise, "okay. But after everything that has happened with, you know, the weirdness and all, I just don't want you to think that I'm thinking that—"

"Lieutenant," he interrupted her ramblings, "this is what I understand. Whilst I am not one to endorse half-truths, I do know it was the only means by which the conscientious folk at this hospital would let me remain close by your side. As my proximity to you is no longer a matter open to debate, I have reconciled myself to a small misunderstanding to be fostered between the staff working here and their grasp of the intricacies of our relationship." Ichabod had known they wouldn't let him stay without thinking that he and Abbie were romantically entwined, so he had not quibbled when Miss Jenny had stepped in and provided the half-truth at the time. Ichabod had reconciled any twinge of guilt he may have felt at the misdirection by knowing that he and Abbie were far more intimately linked then a simple romantic entanglement. So, in fact, it wasn't really a lie, just a different kind of truth. "And therefore, here I stay."

Abbie eyed him in resignation. "You're kind of stubborn, aren't you?"

Ichabod half-smiled. "Like often recognizes like."

Abbie pouted. "I'm single-minded, there is a difference."

He arched an eyebrow. "And that difference lies in who is doing the telling, no doubt."

"Damn straight." Abbie grinned and Ichabod felt his spirits lift a little at seeing a smile back on her lips but then he couldn't help but notice the dark circles under her eyes telling the true nature of her predicament. The smile slipped from his own lips and he looked abruptly away, finding it painful to see Abbie in such a vulnerable state and know he was to blame. Despite the clearing of the air with their earlier conversation, Ichabod's newfound revelations were weighing heavy on him.

"What's wrong, Crane?"

Ichabod gave a mirthless laugh, eyes back on the streets outside the window. "I doubt I have time or strength to give voice to an answer to such a question." He'd been sitting here, going over in his head all that had gone on in the last week and hadn't liked the conclusions he'd come to. His jaw hardened. "But I must because you deserve nothing less. We agreed there should be complete honesty between us going forward." He stood up from his seat by the window and walked over to sit on the edge of his cot by her bed, facing her. Even though they'd spoken of their fight and had offered each other forgiveness, Ichabod had not been able to find any peace. He'd continued to dwell on all that had happened between them, looking to understand it more deeply. Now that he felt he had, it was with a heavy heart he felt compelled to share his revelations.

"Okay, what's going on in that giant brain of yours?" she quizzed him. "You look like someone just shot your dog."

Ichabod struggled to give voice to his feelings on what it was he had been thinking these last few hours. "I do battle to reconcile my actions with my feelings for you, Lieutenant. But, in performing this unpleasant task, I am forced to admit an unwelcome truth about my very nature, one I wish I did not have to accept but fear I must."

"What are you talking about? We've talked about all of this already. I really don't want to go over it again. Forget the fight. It was stupid."

Ichabod shook his head at her, remaining determined to speak his piece. "Alas, I cannot because of the conclusion I have come to about why our falling out actually happened in the first place and I must take ownership of that reason before the person I have wronged."

"Seriously, Crane, you haven't wronged me. You have to let that go. We both did and said some dumb things. Can't we just move on and pretend it never happened?" Abbie tone became pleading. "Please can we just pretend none of it ever happened?"

"I fear that is not something which I can find a way to do because of what I have come to understand about these chain of events."

"I mentioned you were stubborn, right?" asked Abbie in exasperation. "What are you talking about?"

"I am referring to the dawning knowledge of why the prospect of an estrangement between us to preserve moral decencies so disconcerted me to the point of obliviousness of the danger you were truly in. This is the true fact of the matter which has me deeply ashamed."

Abbie sighed heavily. "Crane, you're going to have to help me out here. I don't know if it's the blood loss or the drugs but I really don't know what you're trying to say to me."

Ichabod pressed his lips together and grimaced before blurting out his next words. "I am trying to say that I need you more than you need me," he rasped painfully, "and this knowledge has undone me."

Abbie's eyes went wide. "W-what?"

Ichabod shook his head at her, needing to confess all to her now that he'd started. "To know such a thing causes me much torment because it has informed my interactions with you and rendered a price that you ultimately had to pay."

Abbie reached out a tentative hand and covered his hand with her own. "Crane… Ichabod… whatever you think you've done to cause this, you haven't. I promise you," she said earnestly.

Ichabod made a pained expression, a heaviness settling on him as he was forced to admit his deep shame. He interlaced his fingers with hers, her touch giving him the courage to admit fully to his complicity of her current state. "I am adrift in this new world without you, Miss Mills and that has made me selfish when it comes to you."

Abbie was looking at him with concern. "That isn't true—"

Even though it was impolite, Ichabod couldn't let her interrupt his declarations of guilt. He shook his head at whatever further words of solace she was about to offer him, knowing he didn't deserve them. "I need you, Abbie," he told her with quiet desperation, his hand tightening around hers as their fingers remained entwined, "not only to navigate the oddities of this new era but because you provide a purpose to my life, a reason to not relinquish all hope and slip into the despair which has dogged my heels ever since waking up to find all that I loved had passed into dust long ago." He paused and swallowed hard, looking away briefly. "You are my home now and it was this fear of losing you," said Ichabod hollowly, "of losing my place to belong once more which caused me to hesitate in dealing adequately with the strangeness of your behavior." He looked back at her, face clouding over. "I could not bear the thought of the possibility of being displaced from your affections and the solace your attachment to me brings me, so I did not look beyond my own needs in attempting to resolve things between us." Ichabod's expression was full of contrition. "It was not the behavior of a true friend or representative of the high regard in which I hold you and our attachment."

Abbie looked a little taken aback. "Crane, I don't know what to say to all of that." She hesitated. "I just think you've put a lot more thought into all of this then is necessary."

He gave a short shake of his head. "I do not believe that to be the case, Lieutenant. If we are to continue in our partnership as you indicated you wished to, then we must consider all aspects of that partnership and what is born out of it." Ichabod frowned at her. "Ours is not a straightforward understanding."

"I get that," said Abbie with a grimace, "but we understood okay so far, haven't we? Do we really need to work out every little detail and you know, share it with each other?"

Ichabod could see her discomfort. "I know you are not one to embrace your emotions—"

Abbie frowned at him. "Wait, what does that mean?"

"It means you have a tendency to bury your feelings so as not to openly deal with their ramifications."

Abbie untangled their hands and clasped hers tightly on her lap. "And you know this about me how exactly?" she asked in annoyance.

Ichabod sensed he was entering dangerous waters but he couldn't stop now. "You refute my claim?"

"That I'm emotionally retarded?" she asked, tightlipped. "Yeah, I refute the hell outta that."

Ichabod grimaced. "Please do not become distressed. That was not my intent in sharing my ruminations with you."

Abbie looked away briefly, obviously trying to compose herself. She turned her head back towards him, capturing his gaze. "Okay, I'll admit I'm not the most touchy feely person out there but basically my childhood was just about finding a way to survive from day to day and that didn't leave a lot of time left over to explore my feelings over every little thing. That wasn't my fault."

"I am not suggesting otherwise, Lieutenant," said Ichabod hastily.

"And, yeah, I'm not one to talk about everything that happens in my life because for a long time I've just had to go it on my own, you know? That doesn't make me closed off, that just makes me-me… it makes me—" She trailed off, looking flummoxed.

"Please, Lieutenant, you do not need to explain anything to me."

Her gaze turned a little accusatory. "Then why do you suddenly feel the need to explain everything to me all of a sudden? We were doing just fine sticking to general life stuff and saving the world. Why do we need to go any deeper than that?"

"Miss Jenny feels that—"

"Whoa, just what exactly has my sister been saying to you?" asked Abbie hotly.

"She merely raised some pointed concerns about our relationship—"

"That is none of her business!"

"She loves you, how can things which impact on you not be her business?"

"Because-because it just doesn't, alright?" Abbie looked away and shook her head. "Unbelievable. I don't know what Jenny thinks she is doing."

"I believe Miss Jenny believes herself to be looking out for you," said Ichabod calmly, "and I am grateful for her intervention."

"Why, so things can be all weird between us now?" asked Abbie in annoyance.

Ichabod stiffened in his seat a little. "I'm sorry if my feelings about our relationship have made you uncomfortable, Lieutenant."

Abbie wrinkled her nose and closed her eyes. "You see, now I've hurt your feelings. That's why we shouldn't talk about these things." Her bottom jaw pouted out. "Stupid hospital bed. If I wasn't stuck in this thing we wouldn't be talking about all of this stuff. We'd just be out there, kicking demon butt and trying to stay alive. All this sitting still and thinking isn't good for anyone."

"I understand the sentiment you are indicating to me, Lieutenant and indeed, I would be lying if I said there was a part of me which did not share such a leaning but the deeper truth of our current situation is that much relies upon our ability to work as one. To treat our ties to one another lightly invites disaster and as we already face much opposition from outside forces, I do not believe it is in our best interest to court further assaults from within by not addressing this matter openly."

Abbie gave a little groan. "Can't we just be the kind of partners who have an unspoken understanding between them?"

"On the whole, perhaps, but even so, the occasional realigning of intent may not go astray considering the folly of the last week," said Ichabod dryly.

Abbie rubbed her face. "Okay, fine. Look, Crane, I get the way you're feeling, I do but it doesn't mean that I agree you put me in any kind of danger." She looked at him intently then. "You say you need me more than I need you but that isn't true. Before you showed up, my life didn't make any sense. I was looking for a purpose and I thought going off to join the FBI would provide that but when showed up, I realized what my real purpose was. I didn't understand why all those crappy things had happened to me in my life up until then but now I kind of do. In a weird, really, really hard way to explain, you make sense of my life with all the crazy you brought with you when you turned up in that jail cell." Abbie moved a little uncomfortably on the bed. "I need you too," she said quietly. "Maybe more than I've been prepared to admit up until now but I just don't think we should make a big deal out of it. We're stuck with each other, for better or worse, we just have to get on with it." Abbie hesitated, giving him a sideways look. "Right? We don't really need to keep talking about this."

"My concern was only that in not addressing our need of one another, that we might inadvertently put the other person at risk."

"This is what I know, Crane. You start caring about people, things get messy. I mean, it wasn't smart of you and Katrina to hook up but you did it anyways, knowing the dangers but willing to take the risk anyway. When it comes to Jenny and me, it's kind of a mess but we're still in each other's lives even though it'd probably be easier to just walk away. There is no way to be logical and calculated in everything you do and care about people at the same time. Lines blur, intentions get mixed up. It happens and yeah, it's probably good that it gets talked about and okay, maybe I've been guilty of not wanting to do that with relationships in the past." She drew in a deep breath. "But we've talked about it now, so can we please just move on? I don't blame you for anything, so you don't get to either, okay?" Abbie gave him a crooked smile. "We're good."

It was with no small amount of relief that Ichabod listened to Abbie's words of reassurance. He smiled warmly at her. "I am most pleased that we have reached an understanding, Lieutenant. We shall speak no further on the subject."

Abbie let out a noisy breath. "That sounds like a plan to me." They smiled at each other.

"Now," said Ichabod firmly, "I really must insist that you get some proper rest. I will bother you no longer."

Abbie slid down further in the bed, stifling a yawn. "You're not a bother, Crane." She sent him a vaguely teasing look. "Okay, sometimes you are but I know you mean well."

"A sentiment I share when it comes to you, Miss Mills."

"Hey," protested Abbie tiredly, "don't think I don't know what you did there."

Ichabod pulled up her sheets and tucked them in around her securely. "Then we are of one accord again. That is very reassuring."

"Nobody likes a smartass, Crane," mumbled Abbie, already looking like she was half asleep. Their conversation had obviously taken a lot out of her.

Ichabod promised himself he would not add any further strain to Abbie's wellbeing in the future. Everything was out in the open between them now and Ichabod felt confident about moving into the future as an enduring partnership. It was a good feeling. "Sleep easy, Miss Mills, I am here if you should need me." Abbie gave a little nod, eyes all but closed already. Ichabod quietly took his seat by the window again, this time with a much lighter heart.

#

Nurse Althea Jones sighed heavily as she stood up and rubbed her aching lower back. Thank heavens it was a quiet night on the ward. She didn't feel like running around after an emergency case tonight, she wasn't as young as she used to be. Nurse Althea walked down the corridors of the dimly lit hospital, doing her hourly check on the patients throughout the ICU. She walked into the room of their newest admission to see her patient was fast asleep and the young woman's boyfriend sitting cross-legged on the cot beside her bed, head bent over something he was writing into a book on his lap. The man looked up as she entered and smiled at her. The other nurses had told her about the British guy who hadn't left the side of their new patient basically since she'd been admitted. They'd said he was cute but a little strange. Althea didn't know about either of those things but any man who showed that level of devotion to his woman was alright by her.

"Good evening, madam," said the man, his voice low as to not disturb the sleeping woman.

"Hey there, honey," drawled Althea, her Southern accent still very pronounced despite having left the South almost twenty years ago now. "I'm Althea, the nightshift nurse, I'll be lookin' after your young lady tonight."

The man inclined his head by way of greeting. "Ichabod Crane, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Althea."

Okay, the accent was sweet, as were the old school manners. Hailing from the South, Althea always put a lot of stock in good manners. It was how her mama had raised her and how she'd raised her babies. Althea walked up to the bed and unhook the chart from the end of the bed. "How's our girl tonight?"

"She rests comfortably, I believe."

Althea started jotting down the various readings from the instruments attached to Abbie, glancing over at the man. "Unlike you, I'm guessin'." He was too tall for that cot they'd provided for him, Althea could tell that just by looking. "Y'all need a bigger cot. I reckon we've got one stashed away somewheres in the store room."

Ichabod shook his head. "I am grateful for the kindness of your intent, Miss Althea but I do not wish to trouble you. These conditions are more than ample and I am most grateful I am allowed to stay by the Lieutenant's side."

Althea smiled. "Lieutenant, huh?" She saw all sorts come through here and a trip to the ICU tested a lot of couples. It was always interesting to see how different ones coped with the stress and uncertainty. It either brought out the best or the worst. "Guess I know who wears the pants in this relationship, huh?"

Ichabod looked a little confused. "We both wear trousers. I was led to believe it is an acceptable norm in this day and age."

She looked at him for that curious reply. "Yeah, it is, but it isn't always that easy. Some men have a problem with that."

Ichabod frowned. "How a woman chooses to attire herself is surely her God given right. It is not up to me or any man to dictate an acceptable norm, surely?"

"Preach it, sister," said Althea in amusement. She pulled her digital thermometer from her uniform pocket and held it to Abbie's ear, reading her temperature. "So, Ichabod, huh? That's a name you don't hear too often these days. Your daddy the religious type, then?"

"He was a man of God as much as he was a man of learning," agreed Ichabod, "both defined him." He smiled. "And your name suits you well, Miss Althea. It is from the Greek meaning of healing."

"Is that right? My momma just liked the sound of it, heard it on a movie one time when she was pregnant with me." The digital thermometer beeped in her hand.

"Is everything alright? Why did it make that noise?"

"It's just tellin' me it's done, honey." Althea took down the reading.

"Is it normal?"

"A little up but nothin' to worry 'bout." She looked him over. "What you writin' in your book? Don't see that too often these day either. It's all laptops and tablets. No one ever takes the time to write nowadays."

He looked down at the book in his lap. "I fear I am not very proficient with the inneret or computers. I prefer the comfort of a pen in my hand and paper pressed beneath said pen. It has a permanency to it that I do not believe can be matched by the cyber web." Ichabod paused. "Is that right, cyber web? This generation has so many nonsensical terms, I must confess to a lack of interest in learning all of them."

"It's near enough, sugar. I know what you're sayin'." Althea jotted down more notes on the chart. "I started in this job over thirty years ago and things sure were different back then. These young 'uns comin' through, they don't know nuthin' bout nuthin' about surviving without a machine to tell them what to do next. Sometimes I don't know how much longer I'll last in this world where experience don't count over a machine."

Ichabod half-smiled. "I share your reservations, Miss Althea. It is indeed a strange world in which we find ourselves."

Althea shrugged. "Ah well, I got grandbabies I need to be puttin' money aside for so they can go to college when the time comes, so I guess I'm not goin' anywhere soon. An education ain't cheap but like Mr Nelson Mandela said, education is the most powerful weapon by which you can use to change the whole world. I want my children and grandchildren to have those opportunities."

"I do not know of this Mr Mandela but I share his belief in the power of learning," said Ichabod. "For wisdom is a defense, and money is a defense: but the excellency of knowledge is, that wisdom giveth life to them that have it."

Althea gave him an impressed look over the top of her glasses. "Someone knows their Old Testament." She put the clipboard back at the end of the bed.

"All is well with the Lieutenant?"

"She's stable."

"That is most reassuring," he said with clear relief in his voice.

Althea moved to the spare hospital bed on the other side of the room and went to start to make it with the clean sheets which were neatly stacked at the end of the bed. She grimaced as she bent down to pick up the sheets, her back protesting the simple action.

"Please, allow me." Ichabod was on his feet and by her side, taking the sheets from her hands.

"You make beds?" asked Althea in disbelief.

Ichabod was already deftly shaking out the sheet and making short work of dressing the bed with them. "I sleep in beds, so I am proficient at making them," he said easily.

Althea eyed the very neat tucks in the corner and the way he pulled the sheets very tight. "More than proficient, honey. Where did you learn to make a bed like that?"

"It was expected in the military to keep a neat camp." Ichabod finished tucking in the last bit of the sheets.

"A military man, huh?" She half-smiled. "You don't have any brothers at all? My youngest could do with a man like you, rather than the flipper floppers she always seems to end up with."

Ichabod straightened up and gave a regretful smile. "Alas, my only claim to family resides in this room, Miss Althea." His gaze drifted over to a still sleeping Abbie and lingered there.

She sighed. "Ah well, can't blame a mother for tryin'."

Ichabod looked down at the neatly made bed. "Is there another patient to join us presently?"

Althea shook her head. "No, just like to have a bed ready in case of emergencies. We get them pretty routinely around here." She looked over at Abbie. "I don't think the doctors are that keen to have another patient in here with your girl."

Ichabod cocked his head. "And why would that be, pray tell?"

Althea gave a dry laugh. "Because they can't figure out what is goin' on with her and doctors hate it when they get reminded they ain't God and sure don't want no audience to that fact."

"They confine their understanding to the physical," observed Ichabod. "Not all things may be explained within the realms of science."

"And I happen to think that's a good thing," agreed Althea. "Where would we be if we knew everythin' bout everythin'? Mankind was created to ask questions and if that is taken away from us, I sure don't know what we'd be doin' with our time." She rolled her eyes. "Nothin' profitable, that's for sure. Only God knows all the answers and He's gonna let us figure things out when he knows we're ready to understand what we're learnin'."

"That is a reassuring thought," said Ichabod and then gave another wistful look at the young woman in the bed. "Only there are some things which I wish could be made clearer sooner rather than later."

"God ain't on our time schedule and it's a good thing too. We just have to have a little faith in the meantime."

Ichabod smiled down at her but there was definite strain on his face. "Faith is not always easily found in dark times."

"Maybe not, but it's always the best time to go lookin', honey."

Ichabod's expression relaxed more into a proper smile. "Indeed, Miss Althea, your words are full of wise counsel which I will heed."

Suddenly there was a series of rapid, high pitched beeping from the instruments behind her and Althea quickly spun round, rushing up to check what was going on. Her eyes went wide as she read all that the instruments were telling her. She didn't hesitate, pushing the red button by the bed, the button which would bring every available staff member rushing to her patient's bedside.

"What is it? What is happening?" asked an anxious Ichabod who was right behind her.

"Okay, honey, I need you to step out of the room for a bit," said Althea, keeping her voice low and calm as she dropped the bed down and elevated the foot of the bed. "Your girl needs some attention right now and we don't need you gettin' underfoot."

"I'm not leaving," protested Ichabod.

The first doctor had already burst through the doors and was by Abbie's bed, bent over the patient.

Althea turned around to face him and put a reassuring hand on his arm. "Ichabod, you listen to me now. Abbie is in the best possible hands, we're going to take good care of her, you hear? We just need some space to do what we gotta do. I promise you're gonna know what is going on as soon as we do. You just need to let us do our job, okay?" Althea could see the struggle on the young man's face but he finally relented.

"Very well," said Ichabod anxiously, "but you will fetch for me as soon as you know—"

"We will," she promised him even as Althea worried about the kind of news he was ultimately going to get. This didn't look good.

**A/N****: Is this a good time to mention that not everyone is potentially going to make it out of this fic alive? Maybe not. 0:) Just a heads up. ;) **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N****: First of all, sorry it has taken me so long to get you this next chapter. I usually like to have it not be more than 3 days but work has been particularly chaotic so I didn't have much left over in the tank to do any writing with all the overtime and staff issues I've been dealing with. But, I had a day off today, so I managed to belt out this chapter. Again, not overly thrilled with it because I feel like we've been a bit too long at the hospital by this stage but that's kind of the way the cookie has crumbled on this one. Never mind, the next chapter sees us at a change of venue, so that's good. **

**I don't think this chapter is necessarily worth the wait but hope it won't be a total bust for you. I promise I'll try and get the next one to you ASAP. **

**Cheers… :D **

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

Ichabod intently studied the face of the man walking towards them and didn't like what he saw. He's spent the remainder of last night and all the hours until dawn alternatively pacing up and down in the waiting room or fidgeting in his seat. As soon as the confabulation had begun with Abbie and all those infernal machines Ichabod had been ushered from the room and not allowed to return. He'd immediately contacted Jenny and she and the Captain had returned to the hospital to wait on news of Abbie with him. But there had been precious little news. Miss Althea had come to tell him they were doing more tests on Abbie and that the doctors would come and speak to them once they had news to tell them. That had been many hours ago and the tension had been building inside of Ichabod this whole time, as indeed it had with his companions. The strain was evident on all of their faces and the expression on Dr Ross' face brought little relief as the other man stopped in front of them.

"I'm sorry it has taken so long to be able to let you know what is going on, but we wanted to be absolutely sure before speaking with you all." Dr Ross looked between Ichabod and Abbie. "Perhaps the three of us should go somewhere to speak privately?"

"Whatever you've got to say you can say it here and in front of the Captain," said Jenny tightly. "Just tell us what is going on with Abbie?"

A look of contrition came over the doctor's face. "Your sister had an episode during the night, we're still not exactly sure what happened but there is no doubt about the outcome. I'm so very sorry to tell you this, and there is no easy way to say this, but Abbie is brain dead."

Ichabod blinked, not having heard the term before but even so, his own brain refused to register it.

"No," said Jenny without hesitation, "no, that's not true."

Dr Ross grimaced and looked sympathetic. "I know this must be a huge shock for you but we've run multiple tests and repeated those tests. Abbie is demonstrating no brain activity whatsoever. I'm truly sorry."

Ichabod held up a hand and shook his head. "I do not understand. You are saying Abbie is dead?" His lips felt numb even forming those words.

"Her brain is. Abbie's body is still alive but we can detect no brain activity at all."

"But how is that possible?" asked Ichabod shakily.

"Usually brain death is caused by a traumatic injury or an aneurysm, where a blood vessel bursts in a part of the brain or acute pressure, anything which can cause lack of oxygen to the brain. These can all damage the brain stem and when that happens, the brain ceases to function normally. All that the person was is gone and only the bare minimum of brain activity continues, enough to keep their body alive."

"So, the Lieutenant is still technically alive?" asked Ichabod quickly, heart beating unevenly at this new hope.

"Only her body continues to function," said Dr Ross quietly. "Everything else is gone."

"But your modern medicine, it can reverse this misfortune?" pushed Ichabod.

Dr Ross shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, but it's completely irreversible. She's gone."

Out of the corner of his eye Ichabod saw Irving put a hand to his mouth, shaking his head and turning away. Jenny was not letting go without a fight.

"No," she bit out. "You're going to do those tests again and you're going to find out that Abbie is still there. There is no way this is how she goes out."

"We have repeated the tests," said Dr Ross gently. "Several times. The results are always the same and there can be no doubt. Your sister's brain function is completely gone. There is simply nothing left to measure."

"What happened?" asked Irving grimly. "You all said she wasn't in any kind of danger, that she was stable? How does a young woman go from being asleep to being brain dead like that?"

"As I said, there are many causes of brain death and to be honest, we haven't found the exact cause of Abbie's sudden decline. There was no obvious signs of aneurysm or blockage on her scans, so we're not sure what it was that caused this event but I can assure you, there is no coming back from this. All that is left of Abbie is her body and I know that this is a terrible time for you all and I'm very sorry for your loss."

_For their loss_. The words bounced around in Ichabod's head, not really registering. How could Abbie be dead? It was not possible. Ichabod was unable to accept that Abbie was gone from his life for good. It was too much. Too much loss, too much pain. Ichabod put a hand to his aching heart, unable to conceive a way to cope with this new bereavement.

"I know that you're all still in shock but I do need to talk to you about something very important. I don't know if you have ever discussed organ donation with Abbie but as her family, I'd like for you to consider this option. Your tragedy could bring hope to many other families."

Ichabod stared at the man blankly. Organ donation? What manner of fresh horror was this? Was Abbie to now be carved up while she still yet drew breath?

"It's a confronting issue, I know," said Dr Ross understandingly, "but Abbie was a police officer, she believed in helping others and her final gift to this world could truly save many lives. I don't mean to press this matter, but it comes down to this being a time sensitive decision. We have a counsellor available to speak with you further on this subject and answer any questions you might have—"

"No," said Ichabod emphatically, "absolutely not." He was still in shock over the very suggestion.

"I'll talk to the counsellor," said Jenny dully.

Ichabod looked at her in horror. "What?"

"Abbie and I talked about this once. She said if something like this ever happened, she'd want to be an organ donor."

"I'll send the counsellor around to see you," said Dr Ross. "Again, I'm just very sorry for your loss." The man gave them a last compassionate look and then he was walking out of the waiting room and down the hallway.

"Am I understanding this correctly?" asked Ichabod hoarsely. "You are genuinely considering allowing people to butcher your sister?"

"Abbie is gone," said Jenny painfully. "There is nothing we can do and I know that this is something she wanted to do. It's like her last wish. I don't know how I can go against that."

"I do not believe that we should abandon all hope for the Lieutenant," said Ichabod shakily. "We cannot give up on her."

"It's not a case of giving up on her, Crane," said Irving quietly. "Something terrible happened, something none of us had any control over and now we just have to deal and if Jenny thinks this is what Abbie would have wanted, then I say we have to respect that."

Ichabod turned away from them abruptly and shook his head. "No," he muttered, unable to grasp that this could actually be happening, "no, we cannot allow this to happen. I will not believe there is no hope." Ichabod turned back around and almost glared at the other two. "You know as well as I that things are not always as they seem. None of us know this doctor. He may well be an agent of Moloch."

"I don't think that's very likely, Crane," said Irving unhappily.

"I have seen a great deal of unlikely things of late," said Ichabod hotly. "I am not so quick to dismiss anything. We cannot look to harm the Lieutenant in any further way until we are sure what true fate has fallen her."

Jenny looked away, gnawing on her inner lip. "I don't know," she said shakily. "I get that everything is a little crazy nowadays but Abbie told me once this was one of her biggest fears and that she would never want to live like this." Jenny looked back at Ichabod. "You're asking me to go against my sister's wishes."

"For Abbie's own good," said Ichabod earnestly, refusing to let go of fighting for Abbie to have some kind of chance in all of this.

"What's for my own good?"

The familiar voice came from behind Ichabod and his heart felt like it stopped beating in his chest. He jerked around and all three of them made varying noises of shock, unable to find any words beyond that.

Abbie gave a start of her own at their extreme reactions and then put a self-conscious hand to her head. "What? Is it the hair?" She scowled at them. "Give me a break, okay? I haven't been near a straightening iron for over a day and I've been stuck in bed. My hair is going to have a few issues, okay?"

"A-abbie," gasped Jenny, "you-you're-what-how…?"

Abbie wrinkled her nose. "Was there a question in there I should be answering?"

Ichabod couldn't stop staring, too frightened to blink in case this apparition before him might disappear and they would return to a heartbreaking reality whereby Abbie was still lying in that bed at death's door. Apparently Jenny had the same reservations as she walked up to Abbie and reached out a finger, poking her in the shoulder.

"Ow," complained Abbie, rubbing her arm. "What was that for?"

"You're real," said Jenny in amazement.

"Of course I'm real," snapped Abbie. "Why wouldn't I be—" She didn't get to finish as Jenny suddenly threw her arms around her and hugged her tightly. Abbie blinked a couple of times and then wiggled a little in her sister's tight embrace. "Can't breathe," she mumbled, trying to get Jenny to loosen her hold but Jenny didn't let go. "What's going on?" squeaked Abbie. "What's wrong with you all?"

Jenny finally loosened her grip on Abbie and moved back a little but kept her hands on her arms. "You're meant to be brain dead," she rasped.

Abbie gave a little snort. "Rude." She looked between the three of them. "But seriously, what's going on?"

"Miss-miss Jenny speaks the truth," said Ichabod hoarsely, still unable to take his eyes from her. "We were told you had suffered a death of the brain during the night, that there was no hope."

Abbie narrowed her eyes. "Is this some kind of weird joke you all cooked up?"

"No," said Irving, looking as stunned as the rest of them, "the doctor just told us the news."

"What doctor?"

As if on cue, Dr Ross rounded the corner with another man who must have been the counsellor. "I'm sorry to keep you wai—" He gave a little squawk, coming to an abrupt halt on seeing Abbie and dropping the folder he was holding.

"That doctor," said Irving.

"But… what… how…?" stammered Dr Ross, staring bug eyed at Abbie. "You… you're… how… what?"

"This game is getting pretty old now," said Abbie unevenly. "Can someone tell me what the heck is going on here?"

"We-we ran tests," spluttered Dr Ross. "You can't be here like this, you're brain dead. This is impossible."

"Okay, that's it," said Abbie in agitation, "I'm outta here." She turned on her heel and stalked off back to her room. The others were briefly left in her wake still trying to absorb the shock of the moment but it was Ichabod how recovered first, quickly giving chase to Abbie.

Behind him he could hear Jenny's raised voice to the doctor and Ichabod knew she'd be giving him an earful for the misdiagnosis and what he'd almost caused her to do. Ichabod's blood ran cold at the thought of what might have happened to Abbie by their very own hand if she hadn't woken up when she did. He caught up with her halfway down the hall. "Miss Mills, we must discuss this."

"What's to discuss?" she bit out. "Like I'm going to stay another minute in a hospital where the doctors can't tell the difference between someone being dead and just asleep." She was back in her room, opening and closing cupboards. "Where are my clothes?"

"Please may we discuss this?" He watched with concern Abbie's frantic flapping about the room, opening and slamming cupboards shut in an effort to find her clothes. "While I understand your being upset at this latest turn, I plead with you to remember that you are still not at full strength and should not be—."

Abbie whirled around to face him. "Should not be what?" she snapped at him. "Wanting to get the hell out of Dodge before they bury me alive? You can't know how it feels to be told everyone thought you were dead!" Ichabod said nothing but he saw almost immediately the dawning recognition come over Abbie's face. She closed her eyes and made an obvious attempt to calm down. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Of course you know how that feels. You're the only one who does."

Ichabod inclined his head slightly. "The will you please consider my counsel on this matter, Lieutenant? You are scared and addled, I know this because that is what I was when I awoke in my own grave." Abbie's jaw hardened and Ichabod watch her square her slight shoulders. It had been a mistake to point out weakness to the young woman.

"I'm not scare and I'm not addled," she said tightly. "But I am getting the hell out of here because that is just the smart thing to do." Ichabod had been standing in front of one last cupboard and Abbie put up a hand to push him out of the way so she could get to it. "And you can either help me or get out of my way, Crane."

Ichabod felt the touch of Abbie's hand and it shocked him how much relief coursed through his body at the simple gesture. She was really there. He wasn't arguing with an apparition and just like Jenny, Ichabod couldn't help but be a little overcome. Looking down at that hand on his chest, Ichabod immediately covered it with his own, pressing it to him, reassuring himself that it was real. Abbie looked a little taken aback by his gesture as she stared up at him, her anger seeming to quickly dissipate.

"I thought I had lost you forever," said Ichabod painfully. His brows knitted together as he laid his other hand over the top of his own, pressing her hand even tighter to his uneven heartbeat. "Please do not scare me like that again, Miss Mills. I fear my heart could not take another loss of such magnitude."

"I didn't… I mean… I didn't know…" Abbie trailed off and bit her bottom lip. She looked up at him and Ichabod saw the vulnerability in her large brown eyes, something she usually kept well hidden. "I have to know what is happening to me," she whispered. "I can't go on like this. I need this to be over. I can't stay in a hospital bed waiting for the next attack. I need to be doing something."

Ichabod had concerns about Abbie's physical strength after this ordeal but he knew that her mental strength would not allow her to sit idly by and let others fight a battle for her. It would take more resources to keep Abbie out of this matter than to work by her side. Ichabod was not so foolish as to think otherwise. He nodded and gave a faint smile. "I know."

"I'm not staying in hospital anymore," she said determinedly. "It isn't solving anything and I need answers."

"We shall get to the bottom of this matter together. I have pledged to not leave your side, Lieutenant, so, where you go, so shall I be also."

She eyed him a little warily. "You're not going to stop me leaving?"

Ichabod's lips quirked. "I have yet to find a way of stopping you doing anything once your mind is made up, Lieutenant. In fact I have a deep and abiding suspicion that such a feat is not even possible."

Abbie's shoulders relaxed a little as she realized she wasn't going to have to fight him on this matter. "Damn straight," she muttered. Abbie looked up at him, fresh determination in her eyes. "So, are you going to give me my hand back or what?"

Ichabod looked down at the way he still had Abbie's hand clasped to his chest with his own and sent her a rueful smile as he removed his hands. He felt a loss at letting her hand go, finding it had been reassuring to have a physical hold of Abbie, lest she should be taken from him again. Ichabod knew that holding onto Abbie physically in some way until this mystery of the attacks on her was solved was not a practical desire but he couldn't help but wish that it wasn't the case.

Jenny was suddenly bursting into the room, Irving just behind her. "Okay, we've got to move and move now. There may or may not be security on its way up."

"There is," volunteered Irving. "There is definitely security on the way up."

"And why would that be the case?" asked a mystified Ichabod.

"Jenny," sighed Abbie, "what did you do?"

"Just pointed out that a doctor who can't tell dead from sleeping probably shouldn't be practicing medicine," said Jenny unapologetically. "And that he's an idiot."

"That's the PG13 version of what went down," said Irving. "Let's just say I learnt a few new words today. Plus, your sister suggested the good doctor attempt something that would be physically impossible for a normal human being."

"The guy is a quack," said Jenny hotly. "He almost had me signing off on taking out my sister's organs. He's lucky I didn't punch his lights out."

"You made the man cry," said Irving. "I think the guy would have preferred a punch in the face."

Jenny folded her arms in front of her chest and looked completely unrepentant. "There is still time before security gets here. I could make that happen."

"Perhaps you and the Captain should decamp promptly, Miss Jenny," said Ichabod hastily. "Your sister and I will follow at a less harried pace, once we are done with the insurmountable hospital administration that is required of its patients. We shall regroup to discuss our next move."

"Crane is right," said Abbie. "We don't need you going to jail in the middle of all this. You two go and we'll meet at my apartment."

The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard echoing down the hallway towards them.

Jenny glanced over her shoulder. "I think that's my cue." She quickly walked over to the window in the room, opened it and went to climb out. She looked over at Irving. "You coming or what?"

"Oh hell no," he said without hesitation. "I'm too old to be climbing out no damn window on the run from the law. I am the law. I'll just meet you at the car. You know, like a regular grown up who doesn't get himself into these situations in the first place."

Jenny sat on the window sill and swung her legs over the frame. "Just so you know, judgmental is not a good color on you. Makes you look short."

"Be careful, Jenny," said Abbie anxiously but Jenny was already out the window. They all rushed to check she was alright.

Ichabod watched the younger Mill's sibling shimmy down a drain pipe to the two stories below. "Miss Jenny is very agile," he noted admiringly.

Abbie rolled her eyes. "The fruits of a misspent youth."

"Where is she?"

Ichabod could see in the reflection of the glass two burly security men along with a harassed looking Dr Ross.

"Play along," Abbie hissed to him under her breath as they all turned around.

Ichabod didn't know what she meant by that but he held up a placating hand. "Gentlemen, perhaps we can discuss this matter—" Before he could get any further in an offering of an olive branch, Abbie promptly collapsed beside him. Ichabod's quick reflexes prevented her from hitting the ground hard. "Abbie!"

"We need a doctor in here!" said Irving urgently. He pointed a warning finger at Dr Ross. "Not you. We don't need you pronouncing her dead again because she's got an ingrown toenail." The scene erupted in chaos as one of the security guards pressed the call button and Dr Ross went to help but Irving stepped in the way, stopping him.

"Did I not make myself clear?" asked Irving sharply.

Ichabod ignored the other two men as they began to bicker loudly. Instead he remained crouched over Abbie's inert form, new anxiety churning his stomach. "Abbie," he rasped in renewed horror. Abbie just opened one eye a tiny bit and winked at him before hastily closing it again. Relief surged through Ichabod's body as he realized that she was just causing a distraction to better Jenny's escape. Relief quickly followed by ire. Ichabod couldn't keep up with all of these emotions that he was being continually wracked by these days. At this rate he was going to be in the mental institution recently vacated by Jenny within the month. Just how much was a man expected to take? To distract himself from his annoyance Ichabod scooped up Abbie and deposited her on the nearby bed as Irving continued to make quite the scene, obviously having understood Abbie's initial intent from the beginning. How fortunate for him thought Ichabod dourly and wished he'd been similarly blessed.

**A/N****: Okay, so I promise next chapter we'll get a bit more movement going with the plot. Not huge amounts, but more than we've had so far. Hang in there, guys, answers to what is going on with Abbie are not far away. Thanks for being so patient. :D **


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N****: Posting and dashing off to work, so no time for a chat. **

**Another talky chapter though, sorry about that but we're getting to the point very soon… promise. :D **

**See you in the next chapter… **

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

Abbie squirmed in her seat with irritation but managed a smile as the waitress brought a huge plate full to overflowing of the Sunday breakfast special. A delicacy which was served every morning up until 10am, despite its name.

"Thank you kindly, madam," said Ichabod with a little inclination of his head.

"Enjoy," said their waitress. She looked at Abbie. "You sure I can't get you anything?"

Abbie maintained her forced smile. "I'm fine, thanks."

"You just call if you need anything." The woman scurried off to attend to other patrons on the busy Sunday morning.

Ichabod picked up a fork and began to poke his way through the piles of bacon, hash browns, eggs, mushrooms, baked beans and waffles which steeped his plate to overflowing.

"You know, we could have just gone through a drive through," said Abbie a little impatiently. She wanted to get going to check out the next potential hiding place on Max Duncan's list. They'd already met up with Jenny and Irving at her place and divvied up the rest of list between them. There were only three more names on Jenny's list seeing as she and Irving hadn't found anything at the garage. They'd decided it was going to be quicker to split up into pairs to cover more ground. Which is why Abbie was more than a little frustrated that they were taking time out for breakfast when all she wanted to do was get to the bottom of this mess before she had another weird episode.

"I wished to sit at a table and eat a meal from a plate," said Ichabod simply, his eyes still on his plate of food as he loaded up a fork.

Abbie lifted a shoulder and looked around. "The last time I took you here, you complained about how scandalous the portion size was and how it could feed a family of four for a week back in your day."

"A statement I still standby. The amount of food served to people in one sitting in this era is nothing short of mind boggling. All common sense seems to have left people of this time when it comes to food."

"Says the guy eating his own body weight in bacon and eggs," said Abbie dryly.

"I have not eaten a solid meal for over a day," said Ichabod coolly. "Nor have I slept for even longer. We head into the unknown going forth in pursuit of the Anima. I wish to at least fortify myself with some sustenance before we once again throw ourselves into the fray."

"As long as it puts you in a better mood," grumbled Abbie. "You've barely said two words to me since we left the hospital."

Ichabod finally looked up at her. "And you have no idea as to why my temper might be suddenly so ill in nature? None at all?"

Abbie pulled a face, feeling guilty. "You're tired and hungry, I get it. And I'm sorry. I know I'm the reason for both of those things."

Ichabod put down his fork and glared at her. "You speak only half the truth and do not even know it." He shook his head and picked up his fork, stabbing at the food on his plates. "Gadzooks, Lieutenant but there are times you infuriate me like none other."

"What's crawled into your britches?" asked Abbie in annoyance. "Why are you throwing all this shade at me all of a sudden? What have I done?"

"The fact that you remain so oblivious only irks me further," ground out Ichabod as he shoveled a mouthful of food into his mouth. "We shall discuss this no further."

Abbie grabbed at Ichabod's arm as he attempted to put another forkful of food into his mouth. She gripped his arm tightly, causing the fork to hover between them. "Like hell we won't. Tell me what's wrong? What have I done to have you all up in my business all of a sudden?"

Ichabod made a clucking noise of frustration. "Your little turn at the hospital, when you made play of fainting."

"Yes, it was a distraction to help Jenny escape."

"How was I meant to know that?" he ground out.

"I said 'play along'," protested Abbie.

"And how was I to know that was your intent?" bit out Ichabod. "That could have meant anything and you gave me no time to react. I almost did not catch you when you fell. You could have split open your head on the ground with such a fall."

"But you did catch me," said Abbie. She frowned at him. "I don't understand what your problem here is, Crane. I was just trying to buy Jenny some time."

Ichabod scowled at her. "The problem is, Lieutenant, I have been in constant fear of your wellbeing and life for these last two days and for you to carelessly add to that worry without any regard for my sanity is extremely vexing to me."

"Oh," said Abbie, letting go of his arm and sitting back in her seat. She hadn't expected him to say something like that. "I-I'm sorry. It was just a spur of the moment thing. I didn't want Jenny to get into any more trouble. It was just a reflex."

"I understand your wish to protect Miss Jenny. What I do not understand is your need to do it at the cost of my mental wellbeing." He looked away and shook his head. "I know, you think I am being overly dramatic. We shall agree to disagree on this matter." Ichabod went back to his attacking his plate of food with a singular purpose.

"You really need to stop telling me what we need to do," said Abbie in aggravation.

Ichabod made a face. "I know, I am not the boss of you, I remember very well your earlier declaration."

"When did I say that?" Abbie waved her hand at him. "No, never mind, I'll just add it to my growing pile of blank spots that has become my life." She took a deep breath. "Look, Crane, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just not that used to people caring that much about me. I mean, there was Corbin but apart from him and Jenny, I haven't had that much experience with me impacting on other people's lives." Abbie looked down at the scratches on the table top and distractedly ran her fingers over the marks, suddenly feeling pathetic with such a confession. "I'm used to being alone. It's just how it's been for a really long time and it's hard for me to let people in and even harder to believe that they could-could—." Abbie trailed off, finding it difficult to finish that sentence.

"What about Detective Morales?" Ichabod asked quietly. "You were once entwined romantically. Surely you must have felt not alone then?"

Abbie gave a bittersweet smile, not looking up. "Sometimes you're the most alone when you're with someone. It always frustrated Luke that I could never let him in the way he wanted me to." She moved restlessly in her chair and half-shrugged. "I don't know, I guess I just don't have the skill set to have normal relationships with people. It's not like Jenny and me had any kind of example to follow."

"Lieutenant," said Ichabod intently, "I do believe you sell yourself very short with such a statement. I have not found that to be the case with you at all."

"That's because we've got this weird connection that neither one of us can explain." She made a face. "Which is why I don't like talking about it. I don't like that you care about me so much."

Ichabod made a shocked noise. "Surely that cannot be true."

Abbie gave a half-groan. "Yes, no, I don't know." She struggled to find the words. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm not good with knowing how to handle all the responsibility that comes with people worrying about me. I'm used to just looking after myself. It's hard to consider myself impacting on other people and know how to deal with that." Abbie looked up and frowned at him. "It's different for you, Crane. You came from a loving home, even if you and your Dad did end up falling out. You fell in love with Katrina and you know what it is to love and be loved. You get the give and take in those kinds of relationship. All I have is the train wreck I made of my relationship with Jenny and what I had with Corbin which was cut short." Abbie grimaced. "I suck at relationships. I don't know what else to tell you."

"You do not 'suck', Lieutenant, you are merely inexperienced," said Ichabod sincerely. "Perhaps I can simplify this for you?"

Abbie found it hard to meet his gaze. "Okay, sure, give it your best shot."

"I do not wish harm to ever come to your person," he said quietly. "Anything which may upset you or cause you any kind of pain is something that will do the same to me and it is something I feel compelled to guard against when it comes to you. Know that in any situation where you are at risk or in danger, I will be most anxious about that."

Abbie gnawed on the inside of her lip, still avoiding Ichabod's earnest stare. She found all of this emotional stuff very confronting and it was hard for her to relax into knowing she was cared about by others. Abbie didn't feel quite worthy of Ichabod's devotion to her. She blushed a little to even think of it as devotion. She was just this kid that even her parents didn't love enough to do right by her. Why would anyone else even want to? Ichabod was poking at old demons of self-loathing and inadequacies and Abbie struggled to know how to make peace with it all. She'd thought by getting her life together and joining the force, getting accepted into the FBI academy, that she had dealt with all of that from her past but Ichabod's honesty with her was throwing a painful light on just how little she'd truly come to terms with when it came to her past.

"And I believe you feel the same away about me. When I sought to end my life to end the tyranny of the Headless Horseman, you left me in no doubt as to what you thought about such a course of action and how it would affect you."

Abbie half-glared at him over the memory. "That's because you were being overly dramatic and were going to kill yourself when I knew we could find another way together."

Ichabod smiled. "You instructed me in no uncertain terms that you were most displeased at my cavalier attitude with my life and that you had a stake in that very same life as much as I did." He leaned over the table towards her. "And that is all I simply mean to convey here, Lieutenant. What you felt on that day, the way you found Henry and sought to protect me from my own folly with much earnestness, is how I feel about you when I know you are, or even might be, in harm's way."

Abbie expelled an unsteady breath, seeing his point. She'd been so mad at Ichabod that day, the way he'd been so careless with his own life, not seeming to care the about the impact it would have on others, would have on her. It was still hard for Abbie to see that as a two-way street but she had to accept that this was how Ichabod felt, even if she didn't know what to do with that information. Abbie cleared her throat. "Okay, yes, I understand and you're right, it sucks when one of us does something like that to the other." She grimaced. "I'll try and not do anything like that again."

"That is all I ask, Lieutenant," said Ichabod, looking relieved. "As indeed I remember my promise to you on this matter also."

"But just so you know, I'm probably not going to be great at living up to my end of the deal," she cautioned him. "I don't tend to notice things when it comes to emotions." Abbie shook her head. "Take Andy for instance. Knew him for years, the guy's supposedly in love with me the whole time while in league with the demon who ruined my childhood. The same demon who is still after me to this day." She rolled her eyes. "I didn't have a single clue about any of that. I'm not exactly Miss Intuitive when it comes to how other people feel as it turns out."

"You're very intuitive about people," argued Ichabod. "It's why you're so excellent at your job. Your issue lies in attributing so little time to thinking about yourself."

"I thought not being self-centered was a good thing," said Abbie uncomfortably.

"Not at the expense of being self-aware," said Ichabod. "You have a great many virtues that you do not give yourself credit for and that is why you cannot reconcile the amount of love and care you have garnered in this world with how you view yourself."

Abbie blinked a couple of times in amazement. "Okay, Dr Phil, ease back on the psycho-analysis pedal just a bit, will you?"

"I do not know of this 'Dr. Phil' but I speak my mind on this matter," said Ichabod firmly. "You may make of it what you wish but my opinions still stand."

Abbie couldn't help but smile at Ichabod's tenacity to make his point. "Just as long as you know that I'm probably going to screw this up at some point. Just ask Jenny, or Luke for that matter. My relationships never go smoothly."

Ichabod gave a little snort and turned his attention back to his meal. "Luke," he muttered under his breath.

Abbie tilted her head. "Why did you say his name like that?"

Ichabod picked up his knife and cut through some bacon and eggs. "I would not count Detective Morales' within the number of those who truly care about you, Lieutenant."

Abbie frowned. "Why would you say something like that?"

Ichabod glanced at her before going back to his food. "Because he let you go," he said simply. "Such a man lacks both conviction and the intelligence to know what he possessed. Which means he is in no way a fitting suitor for you, Miss Mills."

"I ended it with _him_, Crane. There wasn't much Luke could do about it."

Ichabod made a clucking noise of impatience. "Of course there was something he could do about it. Katrina did not believe our union would be a wise one but as I could not conceive of a life without her, I simply could not let that stand. When a woman steals your sleep and occupies your thoughts to such an extent that you cannot abide a moment from her side then you will allow no impedance to your being together. I pursued Katrina against all common sense and reason because I could not fathom doing otherwise. How can I believe Luke Morales is an adequate man for you when he would not do the same?" asked Ichabod a little heatedly. "Indeed, this last week I have been unable to sleep or think of little else other than you and I was compelled beyond all reason and decorum to seek you out so that I may not lose you from my life forever." He stopped abruptly, obviously realizing how that must have sound. "I-ah-I mean, that is to say, I'm not implying romantic impulses between us… ah… not that you are not… obviously you are an exquisitely beautiful woman that would turn the head of any man…"

Abbie watched Ichabod become more and more flustered as he tried to save himself while only digging a deeper hole. "Not for nothing, but this is why we should limit these kinds of conversations," said Abbie wryly. "It leads us to places that are confusing and weird."

Ichabod gave a self-conscious smile and inclined his head slightly. "Indeed. My words seem to be my undoing when I try to make myself clear on this matter."

"I get it, Crane, if things had been different and we'd met in another time or place, who knows what might have happened with us?" she said blithely. Ichabod was staring at her now, seeming to be a little taken aback and Abbie felt herself blush. "I didn't mean that," she said quickly. "I don't think that. I don't know why I said it." And Abbie really didn't. It wasn't like she sat around dreaming of Ichabod in that way at all. The words just slipped out of her mouth and she'd have given anything to take them back. "I know you love Katrina and want nothing more than to be with her again and I want that for you both, I really do. You both deserve to be happy again." Now she sounded like she was protesting too much. Abbie grimaced. Damn, why was this suddenly so awkward between them?

"And you deserve a similar happiness, Abbie," said Ichabod sincerely. "And I know one day there will be a man worthy of you."

"That's not my end game here," said Abbie hastily. "I'm not looking for my life to turn into a Reese Witherspoon movie, I just want to stop the bad guys and save the world. I want my life to mean something, to have a point." She pursed her lips. "But you know what I really want more than anything?"

Ichabod was looking at her very seriously. "No," he said quietly.

"I really want to stop talking about all of this stuff and just get on with it," she said uncomfortably. "There is only so much self-reflection a girl can take before 10am in the morning."

A small smile touched Ichabod's lips. "It has been a tumultuous series of days in regards to that matter. As you say, perhaps enough has been said by both of us on this matter for now."

"So much word to that statement," said Abbie in relief. She quickly hunted around for a change of subject and glanced down at Ichabod's still brimming plate of food. "And just so you know," she said conversationally, "you're not fooling anyone with all that food."

Ichabod arched an eyebrow and looked at her innocently. "Excuse me?"

"You ordered that huge amount of food knowing you wouldn't be able to eat it all and that I'd smell all that delicious food and break down and eat something," said Abbie knowingly. "I can read you like a book." And it was working, damn it. Her stomach had been turning over hungrily ever since the plate of food had arrived.

"Are you implying I wish to share my meal with you?" asked Ichabod with feigned indignation. "I can assure you, Lieutenant, nothing could be further from the truth."

Abbie gave an inelegant snort. "Yeah, right. Hand over the waffles, Crane." She reached out a hand to grab some from his plate and Ichabod swatted it away.

"If you wish now wish to eat, we can order you your own food. This is mine." He placed a protective arm around his food.

After the seriousness of their previous conversation, it amazed Abbie how easily they were able to slip into playful banter but she didn't question it, just relieved instead. "Oh come on, Crane, I'm not waiting around until I get another plate of food, not when I know you're not going to eat all of that."

"You underestimate my appetite, Miss Mills," said Ichabod with convincing haughtiness. "I will indeed finish this plate of food and with no help from you."

Abbie's eyes narrowed, playing along. "Alright, how about this? You let me have some of that food and I'll show you something that will change your world forever."

Ichabod's lips twitched. "That is somewhat of a daily occurrence when it comes to you and me," he noted dryly.

"This is different. This is going to complete you in a way that nothing ever has before," teased Abbie.

He arched an eyebrow and looked her over. "I am intrigued but wary of this being an underhanded machination to get your own way."

Abbie just shrugged. "Your call. If you don't want to know one of the best secrets of the universe, then I guess there is nothing I can do about that."

Ichabod's eyes narrowed. "And if my life remains unaltered after your wondrous revelation, you will allow me to eat the remainder of my meal in peace?"

"Yes."

Ichabod gave a short nod of his head. "Very well, Lieutenant. I sit ready to be undone by your esoteric wisdom."

Abbie picked up the bottle of maple syrup which was sitting on the table between them and poured some over the still large stack of bacon on Ichabod's plate.

"Lieutenant," said Ichabod in dismay, pulling her hand away, "you have ruined the bacon."

"Have I?" she asked smugly. "Go on, try it."

Ichabod wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Bacon and maple syrup? I do not believe that to be something I would wish to experience."

"Which is why you have me to school you in the ways of awesomeness." Abbie pushed the plate a little closer to him. "Go on, try it. You only live once." Her lips quirked. "Okay, maybe you're not the guy to say that to but I promise you, this will rock your world."

"I find that a highly unlikely statement, Lieutenant." Ichabod gingerly picked up a piece of bacon and placed it in his mouth.

Abbie watched Ichabod's expression change from one of reserve to surprised delight and couldn't help but give a self-satisfied smile.

"But this is a most wondrous combination of tastes," marveled Ichabod around a mouthful of the sweet and salty treat.

"Told you." Abbie leant back in her chair and folded her arms in front of her chest. "I've changed your life, haven't I?"

Ichabod looked up at her and smiled. "Irrevocably," he said in amusement.

Abbie sat forward. "Good, because I'm starving." She picked up the spare fork which was sitting in front of her and started to eat from Ichabod's plate.

He just smiled indulgently. "I am pleased to see your appetite has returned, Miss Mills."

"Don't look so smug about it," she said around a mouthful of waffle and bacon. "The doctor said I should keep my strength up."

"Is that all he said?" asked Ichabod with interest, sharp gaze on her.

Abbie hesitated and made a play of finishing her mouthful of food before answering. Dr Ross had made one last attempt to get her to stay at the hospital, cornering her while Ichabod had been dealing with some paperwork at the nurses' desk. Ross had told her that her hemoglobin levels had dropped even more since the episode last night and that she was in no fit state to walk out of that hospital. Abbie had ignored him of course because she knew the answers she was looking for wasn't in that place. She gave a little shrug. "Just the usual, that he thought it was a bad idea. That I should stay so he can run more tests on me."

Ichabod was looking at her very intently now. "You are withholding something from me," he said unhappily. "Which goes against our agreement."

Abbie grimaced at his insight. Apparently that reading like a book thing was a two way street these days. "Dr Ross told me my hemoglobin has dropped down even more since yesterday. It's no big deal."

Ichabod's face clouded over. "These seizures of yours are taking a huge toll on your body. We cannot allow you to have anymore."

"Now that's a plan I can get behind," said Abbie wryly. "I don't really want to be declared brain dead again anytime soon."

"In my vision, Moloch said he had touched your soul and was coming to claim what was his very soon." Ichabod's expression became pensive. "I do not think it is an unreasonable assumption to think that your current state of malaise is down to him and the claim he has laid upon you."

"Way to cheer me up, Crane," said Abbie dourly.

Ichabod grimaced regretfully. "I am sorry, but you agree that Moloch is a real possibility of being the answer to a lot of our questions in regards to your current state of health."

"I do, which is why we need to get out to the Hell House and check it out thoroughly for the Anima. If that bible does have a way to destroy Moloch, it may be my only hope." She sighed, thinking about Moloch's intent to unleash the end of the world. "Everyone's only hope."

"Hell house?" repeated Ichabod.

"It's the name of the place we're going."

"And how did this house acquire such a delightful moniker, I wonder?"

Abbie explained around her mouthfuls of food. "It's a big old colonial house on the outskirts of town. About twenty years ago this family moved in and everything was fine and then one day, they all went missing."

Ichabod halted his fork on the way to his mouth. "Missing how?"

"Missing as in never seen or heard from again. All of their stuff was left behind but no one ever saw the family again. It's a whole big mystery that's never been solved. The guy was an antique's dealer and she was a stay at home mom with two kids. Nice, normal family that just disappeared one day. There was a huge countrywide hunt for them but nothing ever turned up. It's like they vanished into thin air."

Ichabod pursed his lips. "An intriguing mystery."

"One that wasn't great for trying to sell the house to anyone else. It's been unoccupied ever since. I haven't seen it in years but it was pretty rundown back then, so I don't see it being in a good state now. All the kids in the area would dare each other to go inside but I don't think many ever did." Abbie remembered that fear and whispers surrounding the house. "When I was growing up, the kids all used to say the house had the gateway to hell in its basement."

"Children can be rather fanciful in explaining the unknown."

"That's what I used to think but now I'm having breakfast with a three hundred year old man who was resurrected from the dead not too long ago."

Ichabod gave a little laugh. "Granted, Sleepy Hollow does lend itself to the fanciful these days." He nodded. "But a house with a supposed gateway to hell contained within its walls is a most excellent place to hide something which you really do not wish anyone else to possess."

"I know," said Abbie, allowing herself a small piece of hope. "If we can find the Anima then we may be able to solve a whole mess of problems all at once."

"An invigorating thought," agreed Ichabod. "This day may yet end with us striking a lethal blow against our enemies if we work together as one." He smiled at her and held up a piece of crispy bacon which was dripping with sweet, gooey maple syrup. "To unlikely partnerships," be offered up by way of a toast. "Long may they be sweet and productive."

Abbie smile and picked up a piece of similarly syrupy and calorie-laden piece of bacon and tapped it against Ichabod's piece. "To things that are probably going to kill us but doing it anyways," she said wryly and then popped the artery-hardening treat into her mouth.

_Many a true word spoken in jest… _

**A/N****: Okay, so we get more into the action side of things in the next chapter, not so much talking… although it's me, so there will be talking. LOL **


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N****: Hey, peeps, sorry I've been awhile with this update. Real life intrudes yet again. Hopefully the length of this chapter will make up for it in part. **

**I'll just let you read this chapter without twittering on too much. **

**Hope you enjoy…**

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

Jenny did a slow circle of the understated room, running her hand over wooden desktops and along book-crammed shelves. It was pretty much how she'd expected Irving's house to look. Neat, practical but with little hints of sentimentality. Jenny walked over to one of the shelves on the wall and picked up a silver-framed photo of Irving and his daughter, smiling broadly for the camera. Jenny gave a half-smile at seeing father and daughter so happy together. She couldn't help but wonder what it must be like to have a father who actually loved and cared about you. "When are you seeing Macey again?" she called out. Irving was having a quick shower and shave before they headed out to check the next possible place Max Duncan may have stashed the Anima. Jenny had already showered and changed clothes when they met up at Abbie's.

"Next weekend," replied Irving's disembodied voice from the other room.

"She coming here or you going to New York?" asked Jenny absently as she smiled back at the teenager in the picture.

"I'm going to New York. It raises the hairs on the back of my neck to have my little girl around this place with all the weird crazy that goes on."

Jenny wrinkled her nose. She couldn't blame him for that. It wasn't safe for anyone in Sleepy Hollow, whether they knew it or not. "It must be hard."

"I miss her more than anything but her safety comes first." Irving paused. "Hey, you're not getting all up in my stuff out there, are you?"

"No," lied Jenny as she moved along the shelf and picked up the next framed picture which was of Irving on the day he must have first graduated into the police force. He wore the dark blue uniform and was shaking the hand of another police officer with a lot of decoration on his chest. Jenny couldn't help but laugh. "Nice fro," she commented on the very young looking Irving with the full head of hair. Jenny looked up as Irving walked into the room, tucking his shirt bottoms into his pants. She turned the picture around to show him and grinned. "And you're rockin' that porn tash like nobody's business."

Irving gave her a displeased look as he took the picture out of her hand. "It was the fashion back in the day and this brother was representin'. And, yes, that moustache was fine. I'm even thinking of growing it back."

"Don't," she advised him, tongue in cheek. "There is a reason that look died out."

Irving set the photo pack down on the mantle and glared at her. "I'll take your completely unsolicited and unwelcome observations under advisement."

"I'm just trying to give you a woman's perspective."

"Why?"

Jenny shrugged and picked up a marble paperweight and turned it over in her hands. "Why not?"

"What did I say about getting up in my stuff?" asked Irving in vague annoyance as he watched her walk around the room and touch every item along the way.

Jenny paused and pursed her lips, feigning an attempt to remember. "You were for it?" she suggested cheekily. Jenny held up a snow globe of Mickey and Minnie Mouse. "Story?"

"Do I come over and go through your private stuff?" asked Irving, taking the snow globe off of her.

"I don't have any private stuff, unless you count weapons and ammunition," she said casually. "The fruits of being incarcerated in one institution or the other or on the run for your entire adult life."

"Is that meant to make me feel sorry for you?"

Jenny snorted. "Hell no, why would it? Not being tied down by anything is a good thing."

"Is that right?"

Jenny turned and arched an eyebrow at him. "Got something to say?"

"It's just that I'm not sure who you're trying to convince with that last line – you or me."

Jenny folded her arms in front of her chest. "I'm just stating a fact."

"Is that right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Could you be any more annoying? Find a different catch phrase already."

"It's just that the woman I saw threatening a retro-cranial inversion to one frightened doctor earlier today didn't look like someone without any attachments," observed Irving casually.

"The man was incompetent," snapped Jenny. "You think I should give him a hug and tell him it's okay that we nearly pulled the plug on my not dead sister?"

"He wasn't incompetent," said Irving mildly. "Just out of his depth seeing as the stuff we're dealing with isn't exactly taught at doctor school." He pursed his lips. "Witch doctor school, maybe, but regular medicine school, not so much."

"I don't want my sister dead," said Jenny sharply. "So sue me."

"I'm not pointing it out as a weakness," said Irving in exasperation as he sat on the sofa and pulled on his shoes. "It's just that I wanted you to know that I know you have more of an emotional stake in all of this then you like people to know."

"If you know I don't like people knowing something like that, why did you just say that?" she asked flatly.

"Because I wanted you to know this tough guy act doesn't wash with me," said Irving easily as he finished doing up shoes and stood up. He fixed her with a steady look. "I see who you really are under all the bluff and bravado."

"Oh, you do, do you?" Jenny's eyes narrowed. "Just so you know, I don't bluff. If I make a threat or say I'm going to do something, I do it. As for bravado, you only need that if you don't know how to follow through. Trust me, that isn't me."

"I wasn't commenting on your skills as a fighter. I was commenting on you as a person. You're not nearly as hardened as you'd like to think you are."

"The hell I'm not," she growled.

Irving held up a hand. "Hey, I'm not knocking it. That's a good thing in my opinion. We've got enough heartless monsters running around the streets of Sleepy Hollow as it is. We really don't need another, even if she is on our side." He walked over and picked up his keys. "I don't know, call me crazy, but I can't help but think heart is going to win this war." Irving stopped in front of Jenny. "And that's one thing our team has in spades. You, your sister, Crane—"

"You," finished off Jenny, looking up at him intently.

Irving half-smiled. "Yeah, me. The other side, all those demons and evil spirits, they're fighting to get what they want, us, we're fighting to protect what we have." He inclined his head. "And if all the sleepless nights in front of the History Channel has taught me anything other than aliens tried to help Hitler win World War II, it's that the home team is always hard to beat in a war. We generally want it more because we've know what we're fighting for."

Jenny pursed her lips. "So, you got the pompoms to go with that pep talk, Brittany?"

Irving arched his own eyebrow. "Brittany?"

"In any cheerleading gang there is always a Brittany," said Jenny wryly.

"Cheerleaders don't come in gangs, they come in arrays." Irving shrugged at her look. "I've got a collective noun thing. I like to know what groups of things come in."

Jenny stared at him. "I'm beginning to see why you're still single."

"Hey, it makes me adorably quirky," said Irving a little indignantly. "What's that word?"

"Dateless?" suggested Jenny straight-faced.

"Adorkable," said Irving, ignoring her.

"_That's_ the angle you're going with? Adorkable?" Jenny rolled her eyes. "I hope the History Channel puts out because with a sales pitch like that, you two are going to be spending a lot of time together."

"Oh, well, excuse me while I fight my way through the bevy of men looking to hook up you, little Miss Thang," said Irving sarcastically.

"I'm a former mental patient with a criminal record, a stash of automatic rifles and the skills to use them," said Jenny philosophically. "It's funny but a lot of men find that a bit confronting. I don't really know why."

"Yeah, I don't get it either."

They smiled at each other.

Jenny shook her head at him. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're not quite as much of an uptight, humorless curmudgeon as I thought you were when we first met."

"I'll try not to let all that rampant praise to my head," said Irving dryly. "And excuse me, but curmudgeon?"

"It means killjoy."

"I know what the word means but it's not something you hear every day. You gettin' your Crane on all of a sudden?"

"Ichabod Crane didn't invent the English language," pointed out Jenny.

"No, he just tries to use every bit of it in most of his sentences."

Jenny's lips twitched. "He does like to say things the long way. Guess they had time back in the day for all of that conversation." She glanced at her watch. "And speaking of time, we're wasting plenty of it standing around talking. We've got somewhere we need to be."

"Mm," said Irving, not looking too thrilled. "I'm not sure why we got the old mannequin workshop and they got the country house."

"You mean Hell House? Trust me, we got the better deal."

Irving walked towards the front door, opening it for Jenny to walk through. "Hell House?"

"It's a whole thing," said Jenny, walking out of the house and waiting for Irving to lock up behind him. "I'll tell you on the way."

"Oh goodie," said Irving, following her onto the porch, "can't wait to hear another weird ass story about this town that is most likely going to end with the words 'and they were never seen again'."

Jenny's lips twitched. "So you have heard about Hell House then?"

"Crap," sighed Irving, "why can't I be wrong just once?"

"The day isn't over yet."

Irving sent her an exasperated look. "Get in the car, Mills."

Jenny gave a mock salute. "Aye aye, Captain."

#

Ichabod looked outside at the trees flashing by, noting how they were becoming denser and the fact that the road they were traversing on was now dirt. "This Hell House of yours is a long ways out of town," he noted.

"I think the locals like it like that," said Abbie as she kept her eyes on the road and stifled a yawn.

Ichabod studied Abbie's profile, taking in the paleness of her cheeks and the dark circles which remained under her eyes. He knew she should really be in bed resting and trying to regain her strength but Ichabod also knew that if he suggested such a thing Abbie would not take kindly to it. Ichabod's lips thinned slightly. It was frustrating because he knew this was taking a lot out of her but for her not to be with him in this quest merely invited failure. And failure at this junction would more than likely cause Abbie her life. Ichabod felt damned if they pursued this course of action and damned if they didn't.

"Stop staring at me," said Abbie, not turning her head to look at him.

Ichabod hastily looked away. "I wasn't."

"Yes, you were. Don't worry, I'm not going to fall asleep and try and sex you up again." Abbie gave a little grunt of annoyance. "Probably."

Ichabod moved a little uncomfortably in his seat. "That was not what I was thinking."

"Sure you were," said Abbie laconically. "Apparently I'm some kind of loaded gun of whorishness just looking to go off when I close my eyes."

"Lieutenant," said Ichabod sharply, "you are no such thing and please do not refer to yourself in such terms again."

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I think the filter between my brain and my mouth is on the fritz. You should have let me have that coffee at the diner."

"Your doctor clearly said you should stay away from such beverages as caternated—"

"Caffeinated."

Ichabod inclined his head at the correction of the strange new word. "Indeed, caffeinated beverages are very ill for your health right now. Your heart is greatly weakened by the strain on your system and such things would only cause more."

"Yes, thanks, Mom," said Abbie wryly. "I was there when he said it, remember?"

"Then why would you go against his directions if it would put you in more danger?" asked Ichabod in slight agitation.

"Because coffee and I have a thing." She wrinkled her nose. "It understands me."

"It's brew of crushed beans. It is not capable of cognizant function. It does not now, or ever will, 'understand you', Lieutenant."

"Hey, I told you before, don't you be dissing on what coffee and I have. It's real and it's meaningful."

Ichabod shook his head. "I am going to put this state of delusion down to your extreme emotional and physical fatigue."

"If that will make you happy, knock yourself out."

"Finding the Anima will make me happy."

Abbie guided the car around a curve in the road. "Well, be prepared for poking around in a dilapidated old house for the rest of the day then. Hope you don't have an aversion to dust and spiders." The road turned off into a driveway, drawing up to the Hell House.

Ichabod looked at the carefully manicured gardens and the pristine-looking house nestled amongst it all. "You and I have a very different understanding of the word dilapidated, Miss Mills." The house looked like it had just been built.

Abbie pulled up in front of the house and turned off the engine, staring up at the house. "I don't understand. The house shouldn't look like this." She blinked. "Someone must have bought the house and renovated it." Abbie wrinkled her nose. "I guess I haven't really been keeping up on the real estate around these parts what with all the fighting demons stuff."

"There is a carriage in the driveway," noted Ichabod, seeing the car parked along the side of the house.

Abbie made a frustrated noise. "This isn't going to be as easy as I hoped. If it had been deserted we could have just walked in. We're not going to get a warrant to look for this bible."

"Perhaps a simple polite request might garner us an entry into the residence?"

Abbie blew out a breath. "Stranger things have happened." She looked at him. "Let me do the talking. You volunteer a little too much information sometimes."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," said Ichabod a little indignantly.

"It's that relentless honesty of yours," said Abbie, opening the car door. "You're kind of a Chatty Cathy."

"Chatty Cathy?" repeated Ichabod as he climbed out of the car as well. "Yet again you amaze me with fresh nonsensical musings, Miss Mills."

"Just let me do the talking, Crane," said Abbie as she walked around to the front of the car. "I don't want to open with 'hey Hell House occupant, we're looking for a book to help us vanquish a demon on our ass." She went to stuff the car keys in her pocket but dropped them instead. Abbie bent down to retrieve them.

Ichabod made a little miffed sound. "I think you can attribute somewhat more subtly to my approach then an outright blurting of—Lieutenant!" His hand snapped out to grab Abbie before she fell to the ground. On straightening up from having picked up the keys, she'd began to topple to one side and only Ichabod's quick reflexes stopped her from falling down completely.

Abbie grabbed his arm to steady herself. "I-I'm alright," she said shakily. "Just got up too fast. I'm fine."

Ichabod noticed she wasn't letting go of his arm just yet though, despite her protestations of normalcy and she still looked a little disorientated. "Lieutenant," he said grimly, "you are not—"

"Going to go anywhere until we find that book," she said sharply. "Yes, I know."

Ichabod couldn't contain the cluck of frustration. He lowered his head and his voice, tightening his grip on her arm. "What good is finding the Anima if you are incapacitated in the process?"

Abbie's jaw hardened. "Without that book I'm dead anyway," she said tightly. "I guess it's just a matter of choosing my poison and if that's the case, I'm going to go down swinging."

Ichabod pressed his lips together, both deeply admiring and vexed by the young woman's spirit.

"And I wouldn't have felt faint if you'd let me have that coffee," she finished off roundly.

"No, your heart would have probably given way and rendered this argument moot," he shoot back.

Abbie started to walk towards the house. "Drama queen," she said over her shoulder.

"I am being neither regal nor overstating the facts." Ichabod fell into step beside her as they walked up to the front door.

"We'll agree to disagree."

"Very well… but I am right."

Abbie shot him a sideways look. "That's not how that works."

Ichabod held her gaze and rapped on the door. "It works for me."

Abbie rolled her eyes. "Of course it does."

Further discussion on the subject was stalled with the door was opened. Ichabod immediately straightened up and clasped his hands behind his back, readying himself to greet the occupant.

A heavily pregnant woman with blonde hair answered the door. Ichabod blinked, instantly taking in the fact she had one blue eye and one green eye. It was a subtle curiosity but one you did not see every day. His eyes swept the rest of her burgeoning form and then discretely looked away.

Abbie smiled. "Hi, my name is Lieutenant Abbie Mills and this is Ichabod Crane, my associate. We're with the Sleepy Hollow police department."

The blood drained from the woman's face. "Oh my God," she said weakly. "Has something happened to Stephen?" She gripped the door tightly, looking like she was going to be sick.

"No, no," said Abbie quickly, "we're not here with bad news."

The woman's shoulders sagged and she put and unsteady hand on her swollen belly. "Thank God," she said unsteadily. "I just thought the worst."

Abbie grimaced. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you. Stephen is your husband?"

She nodded her head. "Yes, he's away on business, won't be back until the end of next week." She looked expectantly between them. "I'm sorry, how can I help you then?"

Abbie smiled at her. "I was hoping we could come in and discuss an ongoing investigation with you."

"With me? Have I done something wrong?"

"It's not you, it's this house. It really would be easier if we could explain inside."

The woman looked uncertain for a moment but then nodded. "Okay, sure, of course." She stepped back and pulled the door open as the sound of a kettle went off in the background. "That's my water boiling. I was just making some tea. Come on in and make yourself at home, I'll be right back." She indicated that they should go left from the hallway into the living room before hurrying off to attend to the whistling kettle.

Abbie stepped inside into the hallway and looked back when Ichabod hesitated. She arched an eyebrow at him. "You coming?"

Ichabod made a face. "Very well." He stepped inside, glancing around at the tasteful surrounds which made the two hundred year old house look brand new.

"What's wrong?"

Ichabod cleared his throat. "The lady of the house is with child."

Abbie frowned. "Yeah, I noticed."

Ichabod wiggled his shoulders a little and looked a little uncomfortable. "It is not seemly for a gentleman to visit with a woman other than his wife during the term of her confinement."

Abbie tilted her head. "Seriously?"

"Yes," said Ichabod, worried that he might offend the occupant of the house.

"But didn't you see pregnant women out on the street and everything?"

"Of course not," said Ichabod indignantly. "A properly bred lady would confine her activities to within the household during this time."

"I guess that's why they called it a confinement," said Abbie wryly. "Boy, that would have sucked." She shook her head at him. "And that isn't a thing nowadays, so don't worry. Pregnant women aren't caged up like zoo animals anymore. They can come and go as they please."

Ichabod scowled. "Their confinement was not meant as a punishment but rather as a protection. There was much disease to found on the streets at the time and a woman and her child had to be shielded from such exposure. And besides—" He stopped himself from completing that sentence.

"Besides what?"

"It was simply polite," said Ichabod a little stiffly. A pregnant woman parading around the streets announced the fact that she'd been intimate with a man. Whilst that was a perfectly acceptable and indeed, expected facet of married life, the society Ichabod knew at the time did not like to be reminded so blatantly of the sexual act. It was indecorous. Ichabod wasn't sure he could explain such a thing to Abbie for her to understand. From what he'd seen of this era, matters of a sexual nature were flaunted at every turn, rather than dealt with as a private matter.

Abbie shrugged. "Okay, but don't worry, you're not going to offend anyone by being seen with a pregnant woman. It's fine."

The woman was back in the hallway, looking a little surprised. "Oh, you're still here. I said it was okay for you to go on through."

Ichabod inclined his head. "I am sorry, madam, we became embroiled in a discussion."

"You're British," she said, looking at him with renewed interest. "That's a very cute accent you have there."

Ichabod wasn't sure what to say to that. He gave an uncertain smile. "Thank you kindly, madam."

"Alice," she supplied, "Alice Connor. You can just call me Alice."

Abbie walked on through to the living room. "How long have you and your husband been living here, Alice?"

"About four months. The place needed a little work before we could move in. We bought it a year ago."

"It needed more than a little work." Abbie took a seat on the sofa which matched the period surrounds perfectly.

Alice gave a light laugh and unsteadily lowered herself into a high wing-backed chair. "I know, right? The place was a mess but that was why we were able to get it so cheap. Stephen and I were actually surprised that no one had snapped it up before us."

Ichabod waited until she had settled in a chair and then took his own seat beside Abbie. He surmised that by the way Alice was talking she did not know the full history of this house. Ichabod decided that was probably a good thing. "You are alone at present, Alice?"

"Yes, it's just me and bub until Stephen gets back." Alice patted her stomach affectionately. "Oh, wait, I'm being rude. Would either of you like some coffee or tea? The water has just boiled and I was just making myself some green tea."

Ichabod saw Abbie sit a little straighter in her chair and go to open her mouth but he quickly intervened. "I believe green tea would be gratefully received by the Lieutenant and myself, if it is no bother." He shot Abbie a look of censure as she gave him a glare of annoyance. Ichabod didn't care. The doctor had been very specific in what he felt was acceptable by the way of nutrition for Abbie and Ichabod wasn't about to allow any deviation from that, no matter how many scowls he received in the process.

Alice smiled. "Great, I'll be right back."

Ichabod quickly stood as Alice stood up and put one hand behind his back, giving a slight inclination of his head as Alice walked by. She smiled up at him at the polite gesture and then headed on out to the kitchen. Ichabod resumed his seat beside Abbie.

She was regarding him with mild amusement. "You guys were up and down a lot back in the day. That must have gotten a little exhausting."

"I am able bodied so showing common courtesy to a woman is no form of hardship," he said simply. Ichabod still found it a little shocking that so little deference was given to women in this age and in even attempting to do so it could be seen as a form of patronization. It was very confusing to him but he attempted to adapt as best he could. However, there were some things he did not wish to relinquish in a bid to simply fit in.

"I guess not." She shot him a look of censure. "You know I don't like green tea and either do you."

"I like you suddenly dropping dead even less," said Ichabod easily. "Therefore we have arrived at a compromise."

Abbie folded her arms in front of her chest. "What, nobody getting what they want?"

Ichabod smiled. "The very epitome of the meaning of compromise."

Abbie rolled her eyes and then her gaze wandered around the room. "They've done an amazing job on this place. I can't believe I didn't hear anything about Hell House being bought and renovated."

"As you stated previously, Lieutenant, you have had other concerns to occupy your attentions of late."

"Mm," she said absently, still looking around. "Do you think it's a little weird that a husband would leave his wife when she was this close to having a baby? I mean, what kind of guy does that?"

Ichabod looked away abruptly, feeling fresh pain at his inability to be by Katrina's side while she'd been carrying their child. He felt a hand on his arm.

"Crane, I'm sorry, that was a careless thing to say. I don't mean you." Abbie squeezed his arm. "I know and Katrina knows that if there was any way you could have been with her when she was pregnant, you would have been."

Ichabod looked back at Abbie and forced a pained smile onto his face to reassure the concern he could see in hers. "Indeed," he said quietly, "but there is still much regret for me to live with. I would have done anything to be with Katrina during that time and see the life we'd created growing inside of her." His jaw hardened. "But it wasn't to be." Ichabod had long been trying to make peace with that fact but it was still difficult. It angered him that he couldn't provide the love and support he'd promised Katrina in their wedding vows. It would be so easy to become bitter but Ichabod knew Katrina would not have wanted that. The daily battle raged inside of him as to how to feel about the twist of fate which had separated him from his family when they'd needed him the most.

Abbie was looking at him earnestly. "Crane, what happened to you and Katrina was awful but if there is one thing I know from all of this is that anything could happen. You're a walking, talking, breathing impossibility. Who's to say what could happen in the future when it comes to you, Katrina and Jeremy?"

Ichabod couldn't help a small smile. "Such faith, Miss Mills," he said huskily, "do you look to flummox me yet again?"

"Okay," she said wryly, "so I was a little slow to get on the bandwagon with that kind of thing but I've got to say this." Abbie paused and her next words were very sincerely spoken. "When I look at you, Ichabod, I can't help but think anything is possible. You should never give up hope."

The rare use of his first name touched Ichabod as much as her words. He laid his hand over the top of hers and gave a small nod, acknowledging her words and their sentiment.

"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something? Would you like me to come back in a minute?"

The sound of Alice's hesitant questions had Ichabod realizing the other woman was back in the room. He quickly stood and took the tray of teas from Alice, not wanting to be rude. "Of course not," said Ichabod swiftly. "We were just—"

"Embroiled in another discussion?" offered up Alice. She looked between them and gave a little laugh. "You two seem to do that a bit."

Ichabod exchanged looks with Abbie and thought about how everyone seemed to be saying that they were lost in their own little world these days. He was starting to wonder if it was actually true. How they were just felt natural to him. Ichabod wasn't certain how to change their interactions and indeed, he had very little inclination to do so as they provided him with a sense of great purpose and comfort.

"Sorry," said Abbie, "we get a little caught up sometimes."

She watched Alice take a seat as Ichabod offered the tray of drinks to Alice first. Alice picked up a cup of green tea and then Ichabod was offering her a cup which she picked up. Ichabod took the remaining cup and settled back in beside Abbie.

Abbie took a sip of her tea and then put her attention on Alice. "I know you're wondering why we're here."

"I am curious," admitted Alice. "And to be honest, glad of the company. It gets a little bit lonely out here with Stephen away." She gave a light laugh. "I was starting to go a little stir crazy." Alice frowned. "But it's nothing bad, right? There aren't any bodies buried in our backyard or anything?"

Ichabod certainly hoped that wasn't the case but honestly, with this house's history, such an occurrence was not outside the realms of possibility.

"No, it's nothing like that," said Abbie hastily. "We're just looking for something, a book. A bible to be exact."

Alice looked confused. "A bible?"

"A particular bible, a gold one," explained Abbie. "It's very expensive and rare and it was stolen by this man and we think he could have possibly hidden it here some time ago when he was unable to sell it." She waved a hand around. "This place was abandoned for a long time. It would have been a good place to stash stolen goods."

"Oh my," said Alice, blinking a couple of times, "that's something else." She shook her head. "I'm sorry though, we didn't come across any bible, gold or otherwise when we were renovating. Did the man who stole it say he hide it here?"

"Not exactly," hedged Abbie, "but this was one of his known places he would secure stolen goods, so we thought it worthwhile checking out."

"Well, we've renovated most of the house," said Alice slowly, "but there is still the attic and basement which are disaster areas. We've stuck a lot of stuff in there that was in the house when we bought it. For some reason the previous owners left a lot of their belongings behind. It was a bit odd. Some of the stuff was really expensive looking too and we were going to get is appraised."

Abbie leaned forward in her chair. "Is it possible we could look through the attic and basement? It's very important that we find this bible."

Alice hesitated. "I suppose. I mean, obviously we want to help in any way we can." She smiled at them both. "Of course you can look around all you like."

"We are much obliged, madam," said Ichabod gratefully. "We will try not to inconvenience you any further with our continuing presence."

"Oh, it's no inconvenience," said Alice brightly. "In fact, I was hoping to ask a favor."

"But of course."

"I was looking at doing some preserving seeing as we have that overloaded peach tree in the backyard and I bought all of these jars." Alice gave an embarrassed laugh. "But now I can't get the lids off any of them. I swear, I don't know how they expect anyone to get into them with those lids on so tight." She gave him a shy look. "You wouldn't be able to help me get those lids off, would you? With Stephen gone I'm finding myself kind of at an impasse."

"It would be my pleasure to assist you in your endeavors, Alice," said Ichabod. He quickly finished his tea. "I will do that for you now." Ichabod stood up and waited politely for Alice to do the same.

"Oh thank you," said Alice happily, "I was completely stuck." She pulled a face. "Just like those silly lids. The kitchen is this way."

Ichabod went to follow Alice out of the room and glanced back over his shoulder at Abbie who was smiling at him over the top of her cup of tea.

"Ichabod Crane to the rescue," she said in amusement.

"I live to serve."

"You give those bottles hell." She held up her cup of tea to him by way of a salute.

Ichabod could see Abbie was intending to use the time she had on her own to look around a little more thoroughly. "And you behave yourself in my absence."

Abbie's expression was one of pure innocence. "I'm always well-behaved, Crane. Now go and rescue the damsel in distress. I've got this."

With a last look of caution, Ichabod followed Alice into her large kitchen. On the table were ten glass jars already laid out.

"That's as far as I got," said Alice in frustration. "I don't know why they have the machines put them on so tight, I really don't."

Ichabod looked at her in surprise as he picked up the first jar. "Machines place lids on jars? Why would a machine be required to perform such a rudimentary task?"

"I guess because they make hundreds and thousands of them at a time. It's more efficient."

Ichabod looked down at the jar in his hand and once again was amazed by the voracity of this century's consumerism. It truly did boggle the mind. "Such strange times we find ourselves in." He placed the jar down and picked up the next, undoing the lid with a little force. Ichabod worked his way methodically through all of the jars.

"Thank you for doing this," said Alice. "I really appreciate it."

Ichabod smiled at her as he finished the last jar. "It is no trouble. I am glad to be of service and to be able to thank you for your hospitality."

"Are you married, Mr. Crane?" Alice was looking at him curiously.

"Yes," said Ichabod quietly, "but currently my wife and I are estranged by forces beyond our control."

Alice was staring at him. "Maybe you'll be able to fix that one day soon."

"That is my greatest hope." Ichabod looked at his handiwork. "Is there any other task you would have me do?"

Alice shook her head. "No, I'm good, thanks. I suppose you want to get looking for that bible now?"

"It is very important that we find it," agreed Ichabod. "Much depends on it." The two of them walked back into the living room. Ichabod looked around when he didn't see Abbie where they'd left her. "Lieutenant?" He walked over to the sofa and discovered her cup broken on the hardwood floors. Ichabod's stomach tightened. "Miss Mills!"

"Something wrong?" asked Alice from behind him.

Ichabod caught sight of a spot of red leading out into the hallway. He quickly walked over to it and knelt down beside it. Touching his fingers to the spot Ichabod saw immediately that it was blood. His eyes followed the length of the hallway and he saw more dots leading out the front door and his heart sank. Had Abbie had another episode or had something else subdued her and stolen her away? Ichabod didn't like either option. "Miss Mills is in danger. I need to find her." He went to jump to his feet but as he tried, his knees buckled under him. Ichabod was forced to put a hand to the ground to stop himself from falling completely to the ground. His head was spinning and he shook it to try and clear it but that only made it worse. Unable to support his own weight anymore, Ichabod fell to the ground and blinked up at the blurry form of Alice hovering over him. Everything was starting to go dark and Ichabod tried to call out to her for help but the words froze in his throat.

Alice's face floated in front of his fading vision as she bent over him. "The moment is now, Ichabod. This is how it all ends or how it all begins. Time to choose." Her confusing words came to him as though he was underwater and indeed, Ichabod felt like he was drowning as he slipped into unconsciousness and a waiting darkness…

**A/N****: See, all that talking finally got us somewhere… a cliff hanger. Who would have thunk it? LOL We're finally getting to the pointy end of this baby. Answers are coming your way… stay tuned!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N****: Better turnaround time for this chapter but it is a shorter one compared to the last mammoth chapter, so… swings, roundabouts on that one. This chapter has more action in it which is good news for anyone who is a bit over all the talking I have my characters do. :D And the next couple of chapters will definitely have more action again with lots of angst, so dress appropriately for that, won't you? As I have no doubt complained to you all before, I'm not a huge fan of writing action stuff as I find it a bit tedious, so, I hope it all makes sense as you read along. **

**And that's enough from me, let's crack on with this chapter and see where everyone is at, eh? Comments are always greatly appreciated and a source of huge motivation for me, like any wannabe author. Thanks again for reading. :D **

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE**

Irving started violently as a cold, white hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder. He swung around batting wildly at the air and made an unmanly gurgle of fear.

Jenny burst out laughing and pointed the mannequin hand she had at him. "Chill, big guy, it's only me."

Irving glared at her in the dimly lit warehouse. "That wasn't funny the first time you did that and it's even less so now."

Jenny grinned at him. "We'll have to agree to disagree on that one because a grown ass man being afraid of dolls is as funny as hell to me."

"Mannequins aren't dolls," said Irving tersely as he looked around the deserted warehouse full of mannequins in various states of dismemberment. "They're creepy, faceless people who dismantle. That ain't right."

"But they have so many uses," protested Jenny. She lifted the hand and used it to scratch her back. "Look, back scratcher." She then went to shove one of the fingers up her nose. "Nose picker."

Irving slapped her hand away. "Stop that, that's disgusting. You don't know where those fingers have been."

"I know where my fingers have been and I don't think Handsie here could be any worse."

Irving scowled at her. "You know, you couldn't be more annoying right now if you tried."

Jenny snorted loudly. "Of course I could. I'll prove it."

"No, you won't," said Irving sharply. "It's bad enough I'm spending my one day off in three weeks trolling around a house of horrors. I don't need, Pesky, one of the lesser known dwarves, getting on my last nerve the whole time."

"Geez, unclench, Grandpa, I was just trying to have a little fun."

"At my expense."

"That's pretty much the fun part," said Jenny impishly.

Irving took the mannequin hand from Jenny and gingerly put it on a nearby bench. "Just let's keep this thing professional and get it over and done with, okay? We don't need to be here any longer than we have to."

"I can't believe you've got a mannequin phobia," said Jenny in amusement as they resumed looking around. "Where did that come from? I mean, that eighties movie was hokey but not exactly terrifying… unless you count the fashions and the hair."

"My family lived in the UK for a while when I was growing up," ground out Irving as he shone his torch under a work bench with a various assortments of mannequin limbs. "My father had a contract there for a year."

"As segue ways go, that was pretty much out of left field," said Jenny wryly.

"There was a show on TV there called Doctor Who and they had this episode where this plastic came to life and started to kill people and that plastic was in the shape of mannequins. They were called Autons. I was seven years old and it scared the crap out of me."

"Ah, poor little Frankie, scared of a TV show."

"It was a traumatic experience when you're only seven," said Irving in annoyance.

"At least my scary monster was real," said Jenny unapologetically.

"Is this a competition for most screwed up kid?"

"No, but if it was, I'd win."

Irving shone his torch in her general direction. "Remind me again how that's a good thing?"

"It isn't, it just gives me more street cred then you." Jenny kicked at a box of spare heads before crouching down to go through them.

"I've been a cop for more than twenty years," said Irving flatly. "I've got street cred coming out my whazoo."

"Sounds nasty," said Jenny teasingly. "I hear you can get a cream for that nowadays."

"You're still not funny." Irving looked around the large workshop and sighed heavily. "Here's hoping Crane and your sister are having better luck then we are."

"If history is anything to go by, they're probably fighting for their lives even as we speak." She and Irving exchanged looks. Jenny grimaced. "Okay, even I know that wasn't funny."

"But probably true," said Irving in resignation. "Those two are like white on rice when it comes to trouble."

"So much word to that statement."

"Unlike you whose life if as boring as the day is long." Irving arched an eyebrow at her.

"I hear your sarcasm and I have one thing to say to it." Jenny whipped out a dummy head from the box she was going through and threw it at Irving. "Heads up!"

He grunted and caught it, wrinkling his nose at the head. "I mentioned my feelings on your hilarity already, right?"

#

Abbie gasped awake, sitting bolt upright as she looked around. _Where was she?_ One minute she'd been sitting on a sofa watching Ichabod dutifully follow Alice off into the kitchen and then she'd blinked and now she was here. Only she didn't know where here was. She appeared to be in the woods but it was like everything around her was made of glass and mirrors. The trees looked as though they'd been sculpted out of mirrors, their branches twisting at sharp angles this way and that. All the shrubbery had pointed edges and reflected the grey landscape all around her. Abbie went to stand up and grimaced as she felt her flesh being cut by the shards of glass which made up the grass. She pulled her arm to herself protectively and scrambled to her feet, shaking out small pieces of glass from her clothes and hair. Suddenly this place was familiar. She'd been here before. Memories assaulted Abbie of finding herself lost in amongst this reflective forest full of sharp, cutting edges. This was where she went when she blacked out, at least, her subconscious did but somehow that subconscious was linked to her physical body. Abbie looked down at her bleeding arm and knew her body would be bleeding outside in the real world. She remembered running through this deadly forest, trying to find her way out and getting more and more cuts. But when she woke up, all of those memories were gone with only the blood left on her body.

Abbie drew in a shaky breath, feeling the fear threaten to overwhelm her. "Crane!" she called out, not knowing if he could hear her but he'd found her before, in the real world, he'd find her again. He had to. Her voice echoed back to her in a strange and dull delayed response. Like an echo in slow motion, if that made any kind of sense. A flash of black out of the corner of her eye had Abbie whirling around. She took an unsteady step backwards and felt something slice through her back. Abbie jumped away, feeling the blood dripping down her back and soaking into her shirt. Some of her blood was sliding down a multifaceted tree trunk, bright red against the monochromatic grey. "Who's there?" she called out, trying to make sure she didn't sound as afraid as she felt. Another flash of black had Abbie spinning around. "Come out! I can see you!" Abbie reached for her gun which was still on her hip. She pulled it out and held it out in front of her, turning in a circle. "Come out now or I'll shoot." Another streak of black out of the corner of her eye had Abbie swinging around and squeezing the trigger. The noise reverberated around and around, almost deafening her and glass shattered and sprayed everywhere.

"Miss Mills?"

Abbie jerked around at the woman's voice. Behind her was Katrina Crane, staring at her, wide-eyed. Abbie immediately lowered her gun. "Katrina," she gasped. Abbie hurried towards the other woman, realizing now that the glimpses of black she'd been seeing were of Katrina's dress, reflected in all of that glass. Thank heavens Abbie had only been shooting at a reflection. She wouldn't have been able to live with herself if she'd accidentally shot Katrina. Death in this world felt like kind of a permanent thing to Abbie. Stopping in front of Katrina, Abbie looked her over. "Are you alright?"

"I do not know," said Katrina hesitantly. "I do not know where we are."

Abbie grimaced. "I was kind of hoping you'd have an inside track on that one."

Katrina looked around herself, looking a little dazed. "I know I am no longer in Purgatory but this strange new world seems to be even worse." She frowned. "And I think I've been here before."

"Yeah, I have that feeling too but it's like it was a dream or something."

Katrina looked at her intently. "Perhaps we dream together?" She closed her eyes. "I have such strange memories in my head when I am here. Ichabod…" Katrina opened her eyes again, "I was with Ichabod and we were—" She stopped abruptly and blushed.

Abbie's eyes went wide. "Do you remember kissing him?"

Katrina's blush deepened. "I was dreaming, I must have been."

"No, you weren't dreaming, I was," said Abbie quickly, the pieces falling into place. "Somehow when I'm in here it makes some kind of bridge for you to get back into my world. You kissed Crane using my body." She blew out a noisy breath. "Oh thank God!"

"You kissed my Ichabod?" asked Katrina a little stiffly.

"No," said Abbie emphatically, "that's the point. I didn't, you did. You thought you were kissing Ichabod in your dreams but you were doing it in mine and using my body." Abbie grimaced. "Okay, I can see how that may not sound like great news to you but trust me, it is. I thought I was going crazy." Knowing that there wasn't some kind of hidden sexual predator inside of Abbie who she couldn't control made her feel a whole lot better about everything all of a sudden. A thought occurred to her, she grabbed Katrina's arm. "Wait, if you could occupy my body before, you can do it again and this time, instead of macking on Crane, you could tell him we need help, where we are."

"Macking on?" repeated Katrina in consternation. "And I don't know where we are, or how he can help and—"

"And?" prompted Abbie in frustration, even though she knew Katrina was right.

"And I don't think I can use you as a bridge anymore."

"Why, because we know what we're doing this time, because you know it's not a dream?"

"No," said Katrina quietly, "because I think you have grown too weak to sustain such a thing. Before I could feel that link to the other world, even when I thought it was my dreams. Now, there is nothing there."

Abbie swallowed hard. "You think I'm dying in the real world?"

Katrina looked her over with a compassionate expression. "You're bleeding and greatly weakened. Being continually pulled into this place must have taken a huge toll on your physical form. You are not meant to be here and your body bears the brunt of such a transgression."

"Why am I here?" asked Abbie hoarsely. "What is going on?"

Katrina looked around herself fearfully. "I do not believe we are alone in this place of mirrored strangeness. Can you not feel another presence?"

Abbie could. It raised the tiny hairs on the back of her neck, chilled the breath in her lungs. She knew that feeling of being watched, of being hunted. "Moloch," she rasped.

Katrina gave a short nod of her head. "He is coming for you. I feel his desire for you, for your soul. He wants what is his."

"I'm not his," Abbie growled. "I'll never be his."

Katrina laid a hand on her arm. "Indeed, we must make sure of that this never happens."

"What do we do?"

A low, rumbling growl rolled out from within the glass forest, full of menace. The sound of heavy footsteps reverberated under their feet.

"He's coming," said Katrina urgently. "We must away."

"No argument here," said Abbie as the two women turned and ran in the opposite direction to the sounds. It was hard running through the glass forest. The ground underneath was either slippery or sharp. Jagged leaves and branches caught at their clothing, tearing it. Katrina's full skirts were especially being torn to shreds. The endless reflections in all that mirrored glass also made it hard to navigate because of reflections of reflections. It made it near impossible to orientate yourself and as they dodged and darted between the trees, Abbie realized she couldn't hear Katrina behind her. She stopped abruptly and looked around. "Katrina!" Abbie could see Katrina not far away from her but then the other woman's voice came to her much further away and Abbie realized she was looking at a reflection.

"Abbie!"

"Stay where you are," Abbie ordered her, trying to get a bead on where the woman actually was. "I'll come to you." It was easier said than done. It was like trying to navigate your way through a hall of mirrors at a carnival, only everything was mirrored all around you. It was confusing and disorientating in the extreme. "Just keep talking."

"You must hurry, Miss Mills," whispered Katrina hoarsely. "The beast approaches."

Abbie could hear the crashing of something large coming their way. "We can't get separated," she said determinedly. "We need to stick together." Abbie finally caught sight of what looked like the real Katrina in amongst all those reflections. "I see you," she said happily. "Don't move." Abbie eagerly stepped out, keeping her eyes on Katrina so as not to lose her again. Unfortunately that meant she didn't notice the sudden drop off to the next level of ground. It wasn't much, less than a foot but Abbie hadn't been expecting it at all and she lost her balance, falling heavily to the ground. A searing pain shot through her side and she gasped in agony as she rolled into a mirrored log, causing it to fall from where it had been resting against some rocks and rolled over her legs.

"Abbie!" said Katrina in distress and then she was kneeling beside Abbie, trying to help. She tugged at Abbie's wrists where her hands were clutched to her side. "Let me see."

Abbie gritted her teeth and removed her hands and felt sick when she saw the large piece of glass poking out from her side. Blood was spilling out everywhere and her head spun from the pain and the sudden blood loss.

"Oh no," said Katrina. She went to remove the glass stick but Abbie stopped her.

"No," she panted, "I'll-I'll bleed out. Don't move it."

Katrina nodded. "Very well." She looked at the tree trunk trapping Abbie. "But I can at least free you from this." Katrina tried to push at the trunk but all she got for her troubles was some splinters of glass in her hands, making them bleed. "Ow!" She shook her hands and pulled out the splinters. "I require a different method." Katrina leapt to her feet as Abbie pressed her hand to her side and willed the blood flow to stop. Katrina returned with a mirrored stick and attempted to use it as a lever to move the tree trunk. However the stick simply shattered in her hands, showering Abbie with more glass.

A loud bellow rolled out from the forest and it sounded very close.

Abbie grabbed Katrina's arm. "You have to get out of here."

Katrina's eyes went wide. "Not without you."

"Listen to me, I'm stuck, we can't get this tree off my legs and even if we could, how far do you think I can run?"

"I will not abandon you, Miss Mills," said Katrina intently.

"What you're going to do is save yourself," said Abbie grimly. "You can't help me and it would kill Crane to lose you again. He can't lose both of us. You have a chance, take it. I'm going to be alright." They both knew that was a lie but Abbie didn't show it as she let Katrina only see steely determination in her eyes.

"But—"

"You're as stubborn as your husband," Abbie interrupted her. "Just go, okay? I won't have your death on my conscience. If you go now there is a chance you might find a way to help me. It's the only hope I have." Abbie nodded encouragingly at her. "Go, run for both of us. It's the right thing to do, I promise you." All this talking was exhausting Abbie but she had to know she was doing everything she could to save Katrina. It was all that mattered now.

"Miss Mills," said Katrina unhappily.

Abbie gripped her hand as tightly as her dwindling strength would allow. "It's okay," she said raggedly. It's the right thing to do. I'd do the same in your place." The two women stared at each other and another roar from behind them had Katrina finally giving in.

"I will find a way to help you and return," she promised hastily.

"I know you will," said Abbie with more confidence then she felt.

Katrina stood up and quickly looked over her shoulder. She looked back at Abbie. "Remain alive and I will return for you."

Abbie managed a weak smile. "I'll do my best. Now, run."

Katrina did as Abbie directed, turning and running into the confusing maze of a forest. Abbie slumped back on the ground and blew out a relieved breath which turned into a rattling cough. She spat up blood, the taste acrid on her tongue. Her relief was short-lived as the sound of splintering glass drew closer as Moloch stomped through the forest. Abbie went for her gun, drawing it out and pointing in the direction of all the noise. The cloven beast stormed into the clearing where Abbie had fallen. He spotted her immediately.

An evil smile cracked the monster's face as he stomped over to her. Moloch leaned over her, flaring nostrils snorting his hot, rancid breath in Abbie's face. "The little Witness," he hissed.

Moloch's voice was like nails down a chalk board to Abbie.

"Long have I waited for our reunion."

Abbie pointed her gun at the creature's head. "Go to hell." She fired every bullet she had at him and Moloch reeled backwards. Abbie's hopes soared, thinking she had wounded the beast but he quickly straightened up and a low, rumbling laughter erupted from deep inside of him.

"You are defeated, Witness, accept your fate. There is no hope."

"There is always hope," threw back Abbie, her eyes blazing. "You can kill me but there will always be another."

"Apart you are insignificant to me," he growled. "One Witness can do nothing to stop me."

"Then you underestimate Ichabod Crane," threw back Abbie. "He doesn't need me to stop you." She was forced to stop and cough again, fresh blood filling her mouth. The pain in her side was agonizing.

"You understand so little," grunted Moloch. "And you will die because of it. You do not understand where your power lies and now you never will."

Moloch drew closer and it was impossible not to feel complete and utter terror at facing down the demon which had terrorized Abbie her entire life. His face was full of twisted menace and all Abbie could do was to hold his gaze unflinchingly to let him know she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of cowering before him.

"Now, Witness," he rumbled, "I have one desire of you." Moloch reached out a gnarled finger with a long, pointed fingernail. He dug that fingernail into Abbie's wound. "Scream for me," he hissed.

Abbie couldn't help herself as a white hot agony blazed through her body. She threw back her head and screamed out in torment, the pain filling her whole world...

**A/N****: Soooo, things aren't looking that great for Abbie right now… and Katrina is not exactly safe and Ichabod, well, we don't know what is happening with him. Maybe Alice has him locked up in a dungeon doing unspeakable things to his helpless body… or is that just my fantasy? 0;) At least we know things can't get any worse, right… or can they? I know, I really am a big old meanie. LOL Some of the mysteries have been explained but there are more revelations to come. I hope it makes sense to you so far. Let me know if I've confused you, won't you?" **

**Oh, and I couldn't help putting in a Doctor Who reference because yes, I am that big of a geek and proud of it! **


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N****: Another tough week to get anything done. Never mind, finally finished with this chapter now. Felt like I was working on it for years! More exposition in this chapter. Again, I hope it makes sense. **

**Onward and upwards, peeps… let's see what's happening to our faves… :D **

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO**

Jenny gave a grunt of annoyance as Abbie's phone went to voice mail yet again.

"Still no answer?" asked Irving as he drove along the increasingly bumpy dirt track.

"No." Her lips pressed together in a tight line. "Why do we let those two do anything together? It always ends in some kind of life or death event."

"That they always manage to find a way out of," observed Irving.

"Their luck has to run out sometime," said Jenny, trying to hide her anxiety.

"Well, look at you, little miss sunshine," said Irving dryly. "Just because we're driving to a Hell House where people have disappeared without a trace to look for more people who suddenly aren't answering their phones, you're leaping to the worst case scenario."

"You've got a best case scenario out of us not being able to contact Abbie and Crane?" asked Jenny flatly.

"Maybe they're in a black spot for cell phone coverage?"

"Yeah, I hear the gateway to Hell is notoriously bad for that," said Jenny sarcastically.

Irving shot her a curious look. "Do you really think this house contains a gateway to Hell?"

"Nothing would surprise me in this town."

Irving gave a little shrug. "You've got a point."

The road bent around a corner and they were drawing up to the Hell House from Jenny's childhood and it looked exactly as she remembered it. If anything the building looked even more dilapidated and rundown. The gardens were overrun with weeds and shrubs had been growing wild for years.

Irving drew up in front of the house. "Well, if there is a text book for what a haunted house should look like, this is out of it."

"There's Abbie's car." Jenny pointed at the loaner SUV parked on the other side of the drive.

"So we know they made it this far." Irving climbed out of the car and looked around. "Crane! Mills!" There was no answer to his cries. He turned around and grimaced at Jenny. "My hopes weren't high that would work."

"They couldn't have gotten far without their car," noted Jenny.

Irving's eyes were on the ground. "Not necessarily so. There is another set of tire tracks here."

Jenny walked over to where Irving was now crouched down on the gravel and weed strewn driveway. "Demons don't tend to drive cars. I'm going to take that as a good sign."

Irving half-smiled as he straightened up. "Look at you all glass half-full all of a sudden."

"Not really. Human bad guys can suck as much donkey balls as non-human ones."

"A delightful imagery which will stay for me far longer than I'd like," said Irving wryly.

"It's just that humans are generally easier to kill than demons."

"Could you tone back the murder talk in my presence?" asked Irving in exasperation. "I want to cling to the last shreds of my credibility as an enforcer of the law of the land for as long as possible."

"That ship has sailed, build a bridge and get over it." Jenny gave him a pointed look. "We're back in the Wild West now. Shoot first, ask questions later."

"Okay, you can stay in front of me in future with that philosophy," said Irving flatly. "I don't want to clear my throat one day and get a bullet between the eyes for my troubles."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Why would I shoot you?" She paused. "Unless you did something that meant I had to shoot you, then I would."

"Wow, how reassured do I feel now. Thanks for that."

"Hey," said Jenny unapologetically, "if I go all Queen of the Damned on your ass for whatever reason, you'd better put me down without even blinking. This is a two way street."

"And both ways lead to a dead end." Irving shook his head at her. "I'm not going to kill you, Jenny."

"And what if I was possessed and going after Macey?" persisted Jenny.

Irving frowned, not liking that scenario at all.

Jenny gave him a pointed look. "You've got to be ready for whatever happens and do what you've got to do. All I'm saying is that if you take me out for the greater good, then that's the right thing to do." She shrugged. "No hard feelings." Jenny looked at him intently. "The world has changed. You've got to change with it. There is too much at stake to pretend like all the old rules apply."

Irving stared at her. "You've really given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"Ever since Abbie and I saw Moloch in that forest, I've thought about nothing else." Jenny's expression was serious. "I'm not going to be that bastard's instrument or any other dark force. If I turn, I'd expect my friends to put me down and I'd do the same for them."

"Being friends with you isn't big on the benefits," said Irving with a grimace.

"Depends on your point of view. You looking to be some demon's bitch?"

"I feel like your go to cure is a bit drastic. Shouldn't we try and save the person first?"

"Sure, if you want to put everyone else in danger for the sake of one person." Jenny gave him a sharp look. "War is a numbers game. You do the most good by sacrificing the least amount of people. It makes no sense to save one person at the cost of hundreds."

"Unless that one person is someone you care about. Correct me if I'm wrong but didn't Corbin look to save you from your demon infestation and that worked out okay."

Jenny's lips tightened. "Corbin took a stupid risk. That thing inside me could have killed him. He shouldn't have risked so much for me." Gratitude grappled with guilt over Corbin risking so much for her sake when he'd done what he'd done. Jenny had never quite been able to reconcile her feelings of lack of self-worth. It didn't sit right with her.

"But he did and I'm pretty sure he didn't regret it." Irving shook his head at her. "Sometimes it's not about numbers, sometimes it's about heart. I standby what I said at my place – this can't all be about strategy and end game. People matter."

"Even if that means we'll be on the losing team?" asked Jenny in frustration.

"We already are on the losing team if people stop counting. It's the reason we're fighting. We can't sacrifice that to get to our goal because it negates our endgame." He arched an eyebrow at her. "It's like screwing for chastity – it kinda defeats the purpose."

Jenny made a vaguely annoyed face but she didn't offer up any further argument. "Can we debate philosophies later? Right now I'd kind of like to find my sister."

"Maybe they're just inside the house somewhere?"

"Not answering their phones."

Irving grunted. "Okay, less likely but there is only one way to find out." He waved a hand towards the front door of the ramshackle house. "Let's get this over with." Irving headed towards the house, Jenny falling into step beside him. He stopped at the front door where there was a large, rusted chain with a new looking padlock blocking their entrance into the building.

"I can pick that," said Jenny confidently, reaching into her coat.

"No need." Irving braced himself and then kicked at the door busting it from its hinge.

"Subtle."

"Efficient," said Irving unapologetically.

Jenny smiled. "We'll make a hardened criminal out of you yet." She frowned, looking at his handiwork. "That chain is old but that padlock is new. Looks like we're not the first one to break in here recently."

"So, what, you think someone unlocked it for Abbie and Crane to get in and then locked it behind them? There has to be more than one way out of this house. A lock isn't going to stop them getting out, it's not stopping us getting in."

"Maybe getting in is easier than getting out, regardless of locks." She grimaced. "Haunted house, remember?"

"Allegedly haunted. Right now all this seems pretty human to me with the locks and mystery car."

"Let's hope you're right." Jenny walked into the house, drawing out her flashlight. She shone it around the darkened halls. They walls were covered in dust and cobwebs and cracks were beginning to appear. "Not exactly ready for its 'Home Beautiful' feature. This place is near to be being condemned."

"As long as it can stay upright long enough for us to find Tweedledum and Tweedledee then I don't care." They walked down the hallway and turned into what looked like it used to be the main living room.

Jenny shone her light onto the wall opposite them and her attention was immediately caught by the symbols written out across it. She hurried over. "Check this out."

Irving was by her side as they looked at the strange symbols together. "What is it?"

Jenny looked down to see a glass jar with a crow feather, a lizard's tail and a small leather pouch. She crouched down beside it for a closer look.

"Is that written in blood?" asked Irving hesitantly as he took a closer look at the symbols.

"If I had to guess, most likely." She looked up at Irving. "You know what this is?"

"No. Do you?"

Jenny stood up. "It's an altering spell. I've seen these before."

"Altering what?"

"Perception." Jenny noticed something else stuck to the wall. She walked over and pulled down a half-torn photograph. She looked at what remained of the black and white image and it seemed to be a picture of the house in its heyday. "Looks like someone was leaving in a hurry and didn't get all of their picture." Jenny turned it around to show Irving. "It's this house. Someone cast a spell so that this place would look like it did in this photo."

Irving took the torn photograph from her and looked at it carefully. "You're saying that Crane and Abbie wouldn't have seen the house as it was but how it looked in this picture?" He scowled. "Why would someone do something like that?"

"To throw them off, to lead them into a trap without raising any suspicions," guessed Jenny. "Chances are that whoever did this was covered in the spell as well, so that they didn't look like who they really were either." She peered more closely at the wall. There was another small pinprick in it. "Looks like there was another photo, most likely of the image of the person who they assumed their identity."

"So, Crane and Abbie are sitting here in this decaying building and seeing something else entirely?"

"Looks like." Jenny shone her flashlight onto the opposite wall and saw more of the symbols.

"Okay," said Irving slowly, "that still doesn't answer the question of where they are."

"No, but I think we can rule out bad cell coverage as an explanation," said Jenny unhappily.

"We need to search this house."

Jenny nodded. "I'll go this way, you go that. We'll stay within earshot." They split off, Jenny heading towards the nearest door which she saw led to the kitchen. On the kitchen table was a single glass jar with its lid off. There was disturbances of the dust around the area, so she knew someone had been in there recently. She didn't understand the significance of the jar but more of those symbols on the wall told her Abbie and Ichabod would have seen that room entirely differently to what she was seeing.

"Jenny! Come here, you need to see this!"

Irving's urgent call came through the walls to her and Jenny quickly turned around and headed out of the kitchen to where she'd last seen Irving. She hurried through the living room into what seemed to be some kind of second reception area and it was to find Irving standing in the middle of the room, his back to her and looking down at the ground. Jenny drew in a shocked breath at what she saw. Etched out on the floor with a black powder was another symbol she recognized from her extensive research into the occult. Concentric circles took up half the room, with each circle having an item resting on one part of it. A dead bird, an animal heart, a bundle of sticks tied up tightly and other touchstones decorated the dark emblem. "Don't touch anything," she said urgently. "It's a portal and these things are always protected." Jenny put her hand on Irving's arm to move him away but he lashed out, swinging around and shoving her so hard in the chest that she was knocked off her feet and clear across the room, crashing into the wall and sliding down onto the ground. Jenny's breath left her body in a painful whoosh and she lay gasping on the floor, trying to regain it. Looking up, she saw Irving march towards her, his eyes completely black and a wooden doll clenched tightly in one hand. Looks like that 'don't touch anything' warning came a little too late. "Oh crap," said Jenny weakly as Irving closed in on her, no longer in his right mind as a dark force controlled him with murderous intent. She grabbed for her gun and aimed it at Irving's head.

#

Ichabod took a deep, unsteady breath and tried to get his bearings. He found the task an almost impossible one in this strange, mirrored forest he currently resided in. One moment he'd known only darkness and the next he'd woken to this disorientating nightmare. The mirrored glass crunched beneath his feet as he walked under a low hanging branch. Ichabod gave a little gasp of pain as he felt his cheek being sliced open by a leaf. He put a hand up to the small wound and withdrew it to find blood staining his fingers. It wasn't the first cut he'd sustained from this hellish place and he doubted it would be the last. Several cuts marked his neck and there was a relatively large gash just above his knee from when he'd slipped on a patch of particularly slick glass. Ichabod could feel the blood running down his leg and into his boot but as there was nothing to be done about it, he simply ignored it. Not for the first time he was grateful for the protection of his heavy coat which covered his arms and torso from all of the sharpness around him. "Lieutenant!" His voice echoed back to him in a dull, delayed fashion and Ichabod pressed his lips together in concern.

The cuts he'd already sustained suggested to him that Abbie had already been to this place before. Ichabod was fairly certain only his consciousness was in this place but he was equally certain that wherever his body was, it was now bleeding from invisible wounds. Perhaps this anathema wiped all memory of from its inhabitance once you were returned to your body in the real world. It turned his stomach to think of the many times Abbie must have been alone and frightened in this dark forest, discovering its horror anew over and over again. And all the while the people around her in the real world had been unaware of her torment. Suddenly Ichabod felt ridiculous about all his fretting over their heated encounters now that he was almost certain Abbie had been in this place the whole time. It was deeply shaming to know his confusion was at the expense of her pain and suffering. He had to find her. "Lieutenant! Answer me!"

"Ichabod."

Ichabod whirled around at the familiar voice, his eyes going wide at seeing Katrina standing a little ways away from him. He'd been so consumed with his thoughts of Abbie that he hadn't even heard her approach. "Katrina," he gasped, both dismayed and delighted to see her. Ichabod didn't want both of the most important women in his life in this hell. Happiness won out though, as it always did when he was in his wife's presence. Ichabod covered the distance between them and swept her up into his arms, finding her reassuringly soft and warm, a direct contrast to their cold, unforgiving surrounds. "Katrina," he whispered shakily into her flame red hair.

"Ichabod, my love," she sobbed and clung to him tightly.

Ichabod pulled back, concern marking his features. "You should not be here."

"Either should you."

"I know and I don't even know where here is." He looked at her intently. "Do you? Is this a different part of Purgatory?"

"I do not believe so," said Katrina quickly. "It is like some kind of world caught between Purgatory and life."

Ichabod scanned her quickly, noticing the blood on her arms and hands. "You are hurt." He took hold of one of her arms solicitously.

Katrina touched his face gently. "As are you but ours do not appear to be serious." Her face darkened. "Unlike Miss Mills'."

Ichabod's eyes widened. "You have seen the Lieutenant?" He looked around himself urgently. "Where is she?"

"We were together but then she fell trying to get to me," said Katrina unhappily. "She is injured most grievously and also trapped under a log. I could not free her. When Moloch approached Miss Mills begged me to leave her." Katrina bit her bottom lip. "I did not want to abandon her in such a dark time—"

"You did the right thing, my darling," said Ichabod swiftly, his anxiety levels rising at hearing Moloch was in this forest with them all. "But now you must take me to her."

Katrina's head bobbed up and down. "Of course." She turned around and headed back the way she'd come. Ichabod followed closely on her heels.

"Are you sure Moloch dwells in this forest?" he quizzed her. "You saw the beast?"

"We heard him," said Katrina as she led them through the jagged trees. She almost slipped but Ichabod caught her waist, preventing Katrina from falling onto the sharp ground beneath them. "Thank you." She gave him a shaky smile over her shoulder. "I felt him, I know it was Moloch. He has kept me imprisoned for so long, I know his presence." Katrina grimaced. "And sensed his intent. He wishes to claim Miss Mills as his own this time. Moloch comes for what he believes belongs to him."

Ichabod's jaw hardened. "The Lieutenant belongs to no one save herself."

Katrina cast him a quick sideways look. "That is what she attested to as well, almost word for word."

"I have no doubt on that matter." Ichabod knew Abbie wouldn't have taken the idea of ownership well no matter who was staking claim.

"You know her well."

Ichabod thought about that statement and realized he did. For all of their differences there was a commonality between them which understood each other. "We have been through many trials together since I have awoken. It has bound us together most certainly." Ichabod caught Katrina's arm. "Wait, we have been here before." He pointed at the ragged leaf dripping the blood from his cheek. "We move in circles."

Katrina made a noise of frustration. "I am so sorry. These surrounds turn me this way and that. I cannot tell which way I should be going." She shook her head and looked around. "I do not know the way back to Miss Mills." Katrina's expression tightened with contrition. "Ichabod, forgive me."

Ichabod quickly laid his hands on the tops of her arms. "There is nothing to forgive. This forest was intended to discombobulate and terrify." He looked around himself, trying to stay calm and focus when all he could think about was Abbie lying somewhere in this hellish place, an easy target for Moloch. "How long has it been since you saw the Lieutenant?"

Katrina frowned. "I-I am not sure. It is so hard to keep your wits in this place."

Ichabod knew what she meant. Thoughts were fragmented as much as the forest around them and time seemed to have no meaning. Even Ichabod couldn't be sure if he'd been in this place for minutes or days. His hands tightened on her arms. "Please try and think, my love. Miss Mills' life depends on it."

Katrina nodded slowly, brow creasing even more. "I do not believe I have been from her side long."

"Then she may still yet be in earshot?" asked Ichabod eagerly. He straightened up. "Lieutenant! Lieutenant!" Once again only the disappointing echo of his own voice came back to him.

"She was greatly weakened when I left her, perhaps she is no longer conscious?" fretted Katrina. She wrapped her arms around her waist protectively. "And Moloch was almost upon us." Katrina drew in an unsteady breath. "Perhaps—"

"No!" said Ichabod and Katrina looked taken aback by the ferocity of his declaration. He was immediately contrite, softening his voice. "I am sorry, Katrina, I did not mean to raise my voice to you but I know that Miss Mills is still yet alive. Moloch has not taken her."

"How do you know such a thing?" Katrina was looking at him intently. "Of course I pray it is true, but what fills you with such certainty, Ichabod?"

"I think I would know if she died," said Ichabod slowly. He wasn't exactly sure why but Ichabod felt like that was the truth.

Katrina was staring at him. "Because of your bond."

"Yes." Ichabod tilted his head, concerned by what he could see in her expression. "What is wrong?"

"We have been apart for a long time, Ichabod," said Katrina quietly. "And you woke to find yourself in such an altered world." She looked away. "I just want you to know that I'd understand if your affection for me has waned in that time."

Ichabod scowled. "I cannot believe you are saying such a thing to me," he said in disbelief. "We have not been parted long at all. I closed my eyes and opened them in this new world, that is true but only a few months have passed since then for me. Would you think my love for you so feeble that it could not endure such a separation?"

"I may never be free, Ichabod," said Katrina unevenly. "I may be in Purgatory forever."

"I will not allow such a thing," he said fiercely.

"Even so, I wish for you to be happy."

"How can I be happy knowing you suffer so?" Ichabod shook his head at her. "What causes you to be so uncertain when it comes to my devotion to you? Do you not know you are my whole world?"

"But that isn't true, not anymore." Katrina grimaced. "You have had to go on living without me and I don't begrudge you that."

"It is a life half lived without my wife by my side," said Ichabod emotionally.

"You have another by your side now."

Ichabod blinked. "Katrina—"

"I dreamt we were together, that I was able to hold you in my arms and kiss you again," blurted out Katrina. "It was the sweetest of dreams after living so long in a nightmare. I clung to those memories and they brought me great solace."

"I-I do not understand." Ichabod was struggling to keep abreast of this confusion, unable to fathom how Katrina could be suddenly so insecure of his feelings for her.

"On speaking with Miss Mills I realized those sweet intimacies actually happened but I was using her body."

"That was you?" gasped Ichabod. Suddenly everything made so much more sense. The relief that flooded Ichabod's body made his head spin. It had been Katrina he'd been kissing, not Abbie.

"I dreamed I kissed my husband," said Katrina quietly. "But who were you kissing, Ichabod?"

"You believe there to be some kind of clandestine engagement between Miss Mills and myself?" asked Ichabod in shock. "Neither one of us would entertain such a notion. On discussion of the matter we knew something was awry." Even if that discussion came after a lot of shouting and generalized embarrassment.

"But you still kissed me thinking it was Abbie," said Katrina painfully. "She is a very beautiful woman and you have spoken of a connection with her—"

"But she is not my wife," said Ichabod hotly. "You are." He knew he'd floundered in knowing how to handle those moments of intimacy but it still shocked him to think Katrina might doubt him because of it.

"Your dead wife."

Ichabod stepped closer and cupped her face. "You are not dead."

"I may as well be," said Katrina quaveringly. "And I would not blame you if you wished to find a woman who could walk by your side in the world of the living. I crave only your happiness, Ichabod."

"If that is the case you will cease this foolish talk," said Ichabod urgently. "It is true I have a deep affection for Miss Mills but she is not the woman I married. She is not you. I would do anything for us to be reunited again, _anything_." Ichabod struggled to truly comprehend his feelings for Abbie and be able to put them into suitable words but he'd long ago recognized his love for Katrina. It cut at his heart that she should hold reservations about his love now.

Katrina's eyes filled with tears. "Forgive me, my love. I never meant to doubt you. It is just that we have been apart for so long. Sometimes it is almost impossible not to lose hope."

Ichabod drew her close, resting his forehead against hers. "Do not lose hope, Katrina, because I have not. We will yet be together. I will do anything to secure our lives together." He felt her relax a little under his hands.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Please never doubt my love for you again, Katrina," said Ichabod painfully. "That is a burden I could not endure." A series of shots rang out and they both started. Ichabod whirled around, instantly working out where the noise come from. "That is the Lieutenant," he said hastily. Ichabod grabbed Katrina's hand. "We must hurry!" Further discussion about their relationship would have to wait and Ichabod could only pray Katrina would understand. Keeping tight hold of Katrina's hand, Ichabod ran as fast as the terrain would allow him to where he'd heard the shots. Katrina struggled to keep up but she issued no word of complaint. Ichabod paused, stopping to attempt to gain his bearings again. It truly was difficult to navigate through such a confusing maze where your eyes could not be trusted to tell you the truth of what you were looking at.

Katrina put her free hand on his arm, looking up at him enquiringly. "Ichabod?"

"I have lost my bearings," he ground out, angry at himself for failing. "This accursed place confounds any attempt at a sense of direction." Suddenly the air was rent with a woman's scream. Ichabod's blood ran cold in his veins. "Abbie," he said in distress. He tightened his grip on Katrina's hand and ran towards the sound, her pain a beacon for him to follow. Ichabod just prayed he was going to be in time…

**A/N****: Okay, for those of you who aren't a fan of Katrina I just wanted to say two things about this section – 1. I have to write to where the show is at with Ichabod and Katrina and I believe this kind of interaction is true to where they are at on the show, so apologies to all Ichabbie shippers who weren't that interested in reading that exchange. And 2. I have a reason for everything… that's all I'm going to say about that, but bottom line, trust me, there is a point to all of this. :D **

**Oh, and on that note, sorry to one of my reviewers, Opheliablack, who was keen to see what happened with Katrina occupying Abbie's body in the real world this time round. I've gone in a different direction with that, putting Ichabod into the mirrored forest as you've no doubt worked out by now. LOL But even so, once Ichabod knew that it was Katrina inside of Abbie's body, I can't see him doing anything with Katrina out of respect for the fact that it was still Abbie's body. That just isn't how he rolls, so there would have been that limitation from my POV. **

**And now we have all the characters in dire straits. Will Ichabod get to Abbie in time? Will Jenny shoot Irving for the greater good? Where are Abbie and Ichabod's bodies? What about Alice – what has become of her? So many questions yet to be answered, so I really hope you'll hang around to see what comes next. :D **


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